And Death Shall Have No Dominion
by xXTweekersXx
Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Style, Creek, Bunny, Gregstophe. Zombie AU Full summary inside.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hey everyone :) This is my first chapter fic for South Park! I'm not too sure how long it'll be, but, seeing as I have a tendency to be very long winded, it should be at least over 10 chapters.

This is only the prologue, and yes, I know, it's VERY short! I tend to start small and work my way up, so don't be surprised if the first few chapters aren't too big either. They will get longer though! That I can promise you :P The first part of the prologue is the poem that inspired this story: _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_ by Dylan Thomas. It's absolutely beautiful and haunting at the same time, and I hope that you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* Cookies to whoever can spot the Stephen King reference ;D

* * *

><p><em><strong>And Death Shall Have No Dominion<strong>_

_And death shall have no dominion.  
>Dead men naked they shall be one<br>With the man in the wind and the west moon;  
>When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,<br>They shall have stars at elbow and foot;  
>Though they go mad they shall be sane,<br>Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
>Though lovers be lost love shall not;<br>And death shall have no dominion._

_And death shall have no dominion._  
><em>Under the windings of the sea<em>  
><em>They lying long shall not die windily;<em>  
><em>Twisting on racks when sinews give way,<em>  
><em>Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;<em>  
><em>Faith in their hands shall snap in two,<em>  
><em>And the unicorn evils run them through;<em>  
><em>Split all ends up they shan't crack;<em>  
><em>And death shall have no dominion.<em>

_And death shall have no dominion._  
><em>No more may gulls cry at their ears<em>  
><em>Or waves break loud on the seashores;<em>  
><em>Where blew a flower may a flower no more<em>  
><em>Lift its head to the blows of the rain;<em>  
><em>Though they be mad and dead as nails,<em>  
><em>Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;<em>  
><em>Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,<em>  
><em>And death shall have no dominion.<em>

_- Dylan Thomas_

* * *

><p><em>Prologue<em>

Tessa's legs ached and her lungs burned but she didn't slow her stride. The soft _tap-tap-tap_ of her heels echoed throughout the empty hallway. Blood roared in her ears. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. _Thump…thump…thump…_Blood dripped down her arm from the gash in her shoulder. Crimson droplets decorated the white tile floor. She was leaving a trail.

_Slam!_

The doors at the end of the hallway behind her shut with a resounding _bang._ A panicked scream tore from her throat.

The alarm was blaring, causing her ears to ring painfully. The red lights that the company had installed throughout the building to accompany the alarm were quickly giving Tessa a headache. She squinted frantically, trying to remember where to go in all the confusion caused by the sound and light. She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. Her heart skipped a beat. She had exactly three minutes until the building locked down and she would be trapped. _Fuck_.

One of her heels hit a crack in the floor and she stumbled, barely keeping herself from falling. Frantically, she kicked her shoes off and continued to sprint for the front of the building. She could hear the shrieks and moans behind her, but she didn't dare look back. '_Get to the doors, get to the doors, get to the doors_,' her mind screamed. The numbers on her watch read _1:41_. Less than two minutes.

The cold air stung her lungs, which were burning painfully now. Her heart hammered fiercely against her ribcage. She half expected it to burst out of her chest completely.

_1:13_

The sounds behind her grew louder and she risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Afterwards, she really wished she hadn't. Her pursuers were closing in. Terrified tears streamed down her cheeks as she rounded a corner and threw herself down another long hallway.

_0:57_

She had less than a minute before she would be trapped with them. '_Keep running Tessa Jean!'_ Her mind shrieked, '_Get to the doors!'_ They were around the corner now, still hot on her heels.

_0:32_

The front doors to the facility were in sight. She ran harder than she ever had in her life, her feet slapping harshly against the tile floor. The doors loomed in front of her. So close. Yet so far.

_0:20_

'_I'm not gonna make it!'_ Tessa thought, the horror of the very idea taking her breath away. She could almost feel their breath on her neck.

_0:13_

Through the small windows at the top of the doors, she could see sunlight.

_0:05_

_0:04_

_0:03_

_0:02_

_0:01_

She hit the doors with the entire force of her body just as the locks clicked into place. "NO!" She shrieked, pulling frantically at the door handles, "_NO!_" The sounds behind her became unbearably loud. Tears streaming down her cheeks and terrified sobs wracking her body, she turned around to face them.

She felt pain. Then she knew no more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So there's the prologue! Have I caught your interest yet? Probably not, haha. Don't worry,the boys will show up in chapter 1. Then we can get this party started :)

Hope you liked it (even though it's short...)! I'm already finished with chapter 1, so that should be posted tonight too.

Thanks for reading! :D


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** As promised, here's chapter 1! Still rather short, but longer than the prologue :)

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 1<em>

Stan hated Mondays. Every sound in the classroom seemed to be obnoxiously loud, from Mr. Garrison's droning voice to Clyde's soft, sleep-induced breathing three seats behind him. The sun that was filtering through the window to his right was abnormally bright, and the classroom was colder than he ever remembered it being. He yawned tiredly and struggled to keep his eyes open. Glancing around, Stan noticed that most of his classmates seemed to be having the same problem. The only people who actually seemed awake were Wendy and Kyle. Stan couldn't help but stare at the redhead beside him and wonder at how he had so much energy. Kyle was hunched over his notes, occasionally looking up at Mr. Garrison and absentmindedly chewing on the end of his pencil. A pair of emerald eyes shifted their gaze to Stan, amusement twinkling in their green depths. The bastard. Mr. Garrison's voice began to grow more passionate and Stan swore he heard the words "celebrity" and "gay dolphins" in the same sentence. Obviously another one of his teacher's rants about something completely insignificant. He groaned and put his head down on his desk. Mondays sucked.

The bell rang to signal the end of first period, and it sounded like music to Stan's ears. The classroom was suddenly alight with movement as students pulled themselves out of their sleeping states and began to pack up their books.

"You look dead, dude," Kyle said, shoving his textbook into his backpack.

"It's Monday morning," Stan said, shrugging, "I was up all night finishing that essay for English."

Kyle chuckled slightly before whacking Kenny in the head with his backpack. The still-sleeping blonde woke with a start, blue eyes flying open and glancing around the classroom. "Dude!" He complained, rubbing the sore spot on his head, "Unnecessary!"

"What's the matter Kinny?" Cartman asked, coming up behind Stan and Kyle, "Rats keep you awake last night?"

"Fuck you, fatass," Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Hey! I'm not fat, you poor fuck!"

Stan couldn't help but grin at the small exchange. Even though they were now seniors in high school, it was nice to know that not much had changed over the years. Kenny had long ago ditched his orange parka in exchange for a hoodie. The hood was usually left down, allowing his mass of messy, golden hair to spill out and leaving Kenny's face uncovered. His sapphire blue eyes still twinkled with a perverted sense of humor and he had broken his fair share of hearts since the beginning of high school. While he had lost a lot of the weight he had carried as a child, Cartman was huge. At almost six-foot-four, he topped even Kenny's lanky six-one. Strong arms were attached to a thick torso, giving Cartman the perfect body type for an offensive lineman. Stan would never admit it aloud, but if there was one person in the school that he would avoid fighting at all costs, it would be Cartman. Standing at five-nine, Kyle was the smallest of the group, something that infuriated him to no end. His hair had grown out of its jewfro during middle school. Now, the fiery locks framed his face in gentle waves, long enough that his bangs were constantly getting in his eyes. The ushanka that he had worn for nearly all of his childhood remained perched on his head, though he was constantly pulling it down over his ears because it was slightly too small. Stan watched as the redhead joined the argument, standing on his toes so that his face was more level with Cartman's (though it did very little good, as Kyle was still quite a few inches shorter). Cartman snarled something anti-semitic, and Kyle's cheeks turned a shade of red that even his own hair would envy. Kenny just crossed his arms and looked on with amusement, occasionally backing Kyle up with a "Yeah, you fatass" or a "Shut up, fucker." Stan grinned as he watched them. They had changed in appearances, but they were still the same immature, argumentative kids they had been in fourth grade.

"You guys do realize that we're gonna be late for English, right?" Stan finally asked, glancing at the clock on the wall in front of him.

That got Kyle's attention, who walked away from Cartman, grumbling under his breath. Stan's heart fluttered slightly as the redhead bumped shoulders with him, grinning slightly. That was one thing that had definitely changed since they were kids. During sophomore year, Stan had noticed that his feelings for Kyle had grown from that of a super best friend to something more. Something much more. As high school went on, those feelings only grew stronger. It was the reason that Wendy had broken up with him for the final time, not that he really minded.

"That's right! Walk away you Jewish nerd!" Cartman called after Kyle mockingly, drawing Stan out of his thoughts.

Kyle flipped him off, making Stan stifle a laugh. Craig Tucker would be proud. Kenny just rolled his eyes and followed Stan and Kyle out into the hallway, ignoring Cartman's complaining behind him. The hallway was crowded with kids rushing to class and Stan's group had to push their way through the mass of students to get to their next classroom. Stan had just reached the door to the English room when a sudden scream pierced the hallway. The noise around them immediately died down as people stopped to attempt to locate the origin of the sound. More screams were heard from the end of the hallway, accompanied with strange moans and growls.

"What the fuck is going on?" Kyle asked, standing on his toes to try and see over people's heads.

"I don't know…" Stand said, craning his neck and frowning in frustration when he couldn't see anything.

Suddenly people were running and screaming towards them. Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman watched with shock as other students pushed past them roughly, as if they were running from something out of their darkest nightmares.

"Dude! The fuck?" Cartman growled, shoving a kid who rammed into his shoulder.

"Um…guys…" Kenny said, suddenly turning very pale, "We should go. Like _now_."

Stan opened his mouth to ask why, but the cause of the commotion had just come into his line of sight, immediately rendering him speechless. It was a man – or it _had been_ a man at one point – that looked as if he had been eaten by a lion and spit back up. Flesh was hanging off of him in clumps, and in more than a few places, Stan could see the ivory glint of bone. His eyes were rolling madly and he was foaming at the mouth in a manner that reminded Stan of a rabid animal. Strewn carelessly on the floor behind him were the unmoving, bloodied bodies of three students.

"_Fuck!_" Kenny gasped, grabbing Stan's shoulder, "What are you _looking_ at? Let's get the _fuck_ out of here!"

Stan's jaw dropped and he pointed at the body of the girl closest to them. She was struggling to get to her feet, her movements jerky and her eyes rolling back into her head. Blood oozed out of a circular wound on her neck, staining her white top a deep crimson color.

"No fucking way, dude," Kyle breathed.

"Let's go!" Stan shouted, grabbing onto the front of Kenny's hoodie and pulling him along with him as they all turned and started sprinting for the exit at the end of the hallway. Unfortunately for the students of South Park High, the doors were not wide enough to allow too many students out at the same time. In their panic, students were tripping over each other and crowding together, ultimately blocking the exit. The hallway was now alight with screams and movement, as students tried desperately to find a way out. Meanwhile, the man and the students that had been supposedly dead were advancing quickly, pouncing on the terrified teens and ripping at their skin like starving wild animals.

"In here!" Kyle gasped, pulling Stan, Cartman, and Kenny into a classroom. He quickly kicked out the window, not bothering to deal with the task of unlocking it and sliding it open. "Hurry!" He shouted, hurdling over the window sill, his friends hot on his heels. They tumbled clumsily into the snow outside before quickly scrambling to their feet. The commotion in the hallways of their school was nothing compared to the utter chaos outside. Everywhere, there were people screaming and running. Snarls and groans could be heard from the bloodied _things_ that were attacking everything within reach. Stan had to swallow down the urge to vomit as he watched a woman tear through a man's neck with her teeth. Only about ten yards from them, a man was tackled to the ground. They watched with horror as his attacker ripped open his stomach and began gnawing at his intestines. This time, Stan did throw up, his throat burning at the acid taste.

"What do we do?" Kyle asked, turning terrified emerald eyes toward his black haired best friend.

"My house is closest," Kenny said, already pulling his friends toward the direction of his house, "My truck has a full tank of gas. We have to get the fuck out of here."

"What about our parents?" Stan asked.

Kenny bit his lip, "We'll stop by your houses on the way out of town. But if those _things_ are there, we're gonna have to assume the worst."

They reached Kenny's house in a matter of minutes, narrowly escaping from a nerve-wracking amount of the seemingly rabid humans. One started chasing after them directly as they threw themselves towards Kenny's old Ford pickup. Stan could feel its hot breath on his neck as he launched himself into the truck, pulling Kyle in after him and slamming the door shut behind them. Cartman clambered into the backseat while Kenny just barely made it into the driver's seat. He quickly started the truck, which roared to life loudly, and hit the gas, slamming into the creature as he peeled out of his driveway. Stan watched through the rearview mirror as the man got back to his feet jerkily, his neck hanging at an impossible angle.

"Dude, what the _fuck_ is going on?" Cartman asked, looking about ready to pass out.

Kenny shook his head slowly, veering to the side as another one of the creatures stumbled into the path of his truck, "I have no fucking idea, dude."

"Do you think our parents are ok?" Kyle asked worriedly, watching with wide eyes as a woman on the side of the road was taken down by a little girl.

"I don't know," Stan answered honestly, trying not to think about his own parents and Shelly.

They pulled up to Cartman's house first. Cartman let out a small noise when they saw that the door had been kicked in. He threw open the door and started climbing out.

"What are you _doing_?" Kenny hissed, "Dude, get back in here!"

"Mom?" Cartman called, running towards his front door.

"Fatass!" Kyle yelled, "It's not safe! We have to go!"

Stan's eyes widened as he realized that several of the creatures were now making their way towards them.

Cartman disappeared inside his house, still calling for his mother.

"That fucker!" Kenny cried, "They're probably inside!"

There was an ear-piercing scream and suddenly Cartman came flying out of his house, limping heavily. Blood was flowing freely from a large wound in his leg. The creatures that had started advancing towards the truck turned towards him and closed in with a speed that surprised the three onlookers.

"Cartman!" Kenny shouted as he watched their friend get thrown to the ground. They looked on in horror as the four _things_ ripped into the teen's flesh. Cartman's screams pierced their ears and Stan felt like he was going to throw up again.

"Drive, Kenny! _Drive_!" Kyle screamed, his eyes watering as he turned into Stan's chest, trying to block out the sound of Cartman's pain-filled wails.

A sob ripped from Kenny's throat as he hit the gas, running over yet another one of the rabid creatures. They drove in horrified silence, each trying to hold back tears for their lost friend.

When they reached Stan's house, they decided not to stop. All of the windows had been broken, and the door was slightly ajar. Stan stared at his house, feeling his heart plummet as he came to the realization that he might never see his family again. Kyle grasped his shoulder firmly, thumb rubbing soothing circles into Stan's skin. Stan swallowed back tears and put his hand over Kyle's, grateful for the contact.

Kyle's house was no better. In fact, they all watched in horror as one of the creatures came stumbling out of his front door, blooding dripping from its mouth. Kyle chocked back a sob as Kenny sped away, squeezing Stan's shoulder tighter. Kenny navigated them expertly through the chaos of South Park's streets. Everywhere, there were people running and screaming. Blood stained the sidewalks and corpses were strewn carelessly throughout the town. Stan had to close his eyes to block out the images of people he knew getting ripped to shreds by what could only be described as the walking dead.

They drove in silence, save for the occasional shuddering breath or choked whimper as they all tried to keep themselves from falling apart. Stan finally opened his eyes and watched in the rearview mirror as they left South Park behind. He continued to watch until he could no longer see any trace of the town that had been his home for his entire life.

Shocked, terrified, and on the verge of breaking down, the three friends continued on, uncertain of where the road would take them in a world gone mad.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know, I know, still pretty darn short! But I've been working on chapter 2, and it looks like it'll be longer than chapter 1. Chapters will get longer as the story goes on, I promise :)

And yes...I killed Cartman...I have nothing against him, but he didn't really fit into where this story is heading so...yeah.

Please review! I'm open to any and all criticism :)

Thanks for reading! :P


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Here's chapter 2! Hope you like it!

A HUGE thanks to Person, S.E. Mellark, Vanguard Bunny, and WxTxR for reviewing! You guys ROCK! :D

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 2<em>

They drove for hours, not speaking as much as a single word. Stan kept his gaze focused on the road in front of them, still holding onto Kyle tightly. The sun had long since set, the darkness of the night only adding to the fear that was bubbling furiously in his stomach. They had experienced a heavy bout of traffic outside of Denver, as people were obviously fleeing the city, but Stan had not seen another car in over two hours. For whatever reason, this made him incredibly uneasy.

When Kenny began to show signs of fatigue, Stan took over the driving. Kyle scooted over so that he was sitting between his friends, eyes wide and shell-shocked and obviously in need of as much physical contact as possible. Kyle had always found a great amount of comfort from contact, and Stan made sure to keep his shoulder pressed against the redhead, one hand resting on his knee. Kenny draped an arm around Kyle's shoulders, probably receiving as much comfort from it as he was giving his friend.

They eventually came across a small town – even smaller than South Park – that seemed completely deserted. There were bloodstains on the sidewalks there as well; however, there was no sight of the creatures that had overrun South Park. They found a small hotel and parked the truck in the empty parking lot.

"Do you think anyone's here?" Kenny asked, keeping his voice low as he carefully scanned their surroundings.

"It looks like everyone fled. And that those things followed them," Kyle said, swallowing nervously.

"We'll grab a room on the top floor," Stan decided, "And take turns sleeping. We're gonna have to find something to defend ourselves with eventually."

"Guys, I don't like this," Kenny said, his sapphire eyes scanning the deserted road, "What if those things are here and they're waiting for us? And what'll we do if they get into the hotel?"

"I have a feeling that they left when the survivors ran off. There's nothing here for them to eat," Kyle pointed out, "And we can't just keep driving. We need gas, and food, and whatever clothes and weapons we can find. Besides, I bet the top floor has access to the roof. And that restaurant is close enough for us to jump onto its roof if we need to."

Kenny still looked uneasy, but the exhaustion of the day was talking its toll and he reluctantly agreed. Stan killed the engine and the three friends climbed out, quietly closing the doors behind them. They entered the hotel carefully, eyes straining against the darkness. Kenny and Stan watched the door as Kyle found them a key to one of the rooms on the top floor.

"508," He said, handing the key to Stan, who pocketed it with a nod.

They slowly made their way to the staircase and slipped inside. They reached the fifth floor with no trouble. The lights in the hallway were on, as the hotel owner probably wasn't thinking about the electricity bill when he or she ran off. There was nothing in sight, and Stan felt himself relax slightly. They slipped into their room quietly and bolted the door behind them. Kenny did a quick sweep of the room while Stan and Kyle waited with baited breath. When Kenny failed to find anything, the three friends visibly relaxed. The lights in the room had been left on as well, and whoever had been staying there hadn't taken their suitcase with them. Stan shuffled through the suitcase, pulling out whatever he thought they could use. Kenny raided the fridge, pleased to find that the room's previous occupant had left behind a styrofoam box with a fair amount of spaghetti in it as well as a large bottle of soda. Kyle meanwhile set to work on breaking into the complementary safe that was located in the closet. Stan grinned happily as he found several pairs of jeans and a handful of t-shirts that would probably fit the three of them. Kenny set the box of spaghetti and the soda on the table next to the window and motioned for Stan to join him as he dug in. A loud click sounded as Kyle somehow managed to open the safe in the closet.

"Anything useful in there?" Stan asked.

Kyle shook his head dejectedly, "Just a wallet. Not like we'll be needing money or credit cards."

Stan shifted over so that Kyle could sit down next to him on the sofa chair. Conversation again came to a halt as they ate the small meal.

"I wonder if the TV works," Kenny mumbled, grabbing the remote and staring at it for a short measure of time.

"Might as well give it a try," Kyle said, throwing the now empty styrofoam box in the garbage. "Just keep it down."

Kenny nodded, flipping on the TV and hastily lowering the volume so that it was impossible to hear it through the walls or the door. The channel was already set to the news, which still seemed to be up and running.

"_We are getting reports of more and more areas being overrun by what seem to be the walking dead,"_ The anchor, a young man, was saying. "_The big cities seem to be where the worst of the chaos is. Areas such as Boston, New York City, Las Vegas, Miami, and Denver are now impossible to reach. We are advising people to stay inside and avoid the streets at all costs. If your town is being overrun and you cannot find safe shelter, you must get out of the area and to a safe place immediately. Avoid large crowds, leave lights off, and keep sound to a minimum, as all of these seem to attract these walkers._"

Kenny, Kyle, and Stan sat down on the bed, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"_We here at Channel 5 have been ordered to evacuate the building. This will be our last broadcast. If you have a radio, turn it on to channel 7. We will be airing on that channel with emergency information."_ The man paused, a haggard look crossing his face that made him appear much older than he really was. "_Remember, remain indoors. Stay safe everyone. And may God be with us all_." And with that, the channel turned to static.

The three friends sat in silence for several minutes, staring unblinkingly into the static. Finally, Stan turned the TV off.

"Well…shit." He said, tossing the remote onto the bedside table.

"What're we gonna do?" Kyle asked, his emerald eyes wide with fear.

Kenny crossed the room to the suitcase that was still sitting on the floor by the front door. He shuffled through it for a minute, grumbling under his breath, before he grinned and pulled out a map. "Usually I hate tourists," he said, spreading the map over the bed, "But this sucker has been damn useful."

It was a map of Colorado with all of the main roads marked.

"We're about twenty miles south of Denver," Kyle said, pointing to the area where the hotel was located. "The closest city is Colorado Springs. Problem is, Colorado Springs has over 400,000 people living there. I think our best bet is Telluride, which is right over here," Kyle said, pointing to a small dot on left side of the map. "It's a small town about 300 miles west of here. Only about a population of 2,000. It should have enough supplies for us to stock up."

Stan just stared at his redhead friend. "How the hell do you know this stuff, dude?"

Kyle blushed slightly, "I actually pay attention in class, dude."

Kenny scoffed at this, but was smiling slightly. "Well thank God one of us does," he said. "We'll stay the night here then take off in the morning. I'm gonna need to get gas though."

"We can do that before we leave," Stan said, "I'm just worried about food."

"There's a vending machine down the hall," Kyle said, "I don't think the hotel would mind if we took some stuff."

Stan nodded, "I'll go raid it then. Why don't you guys take a shower or whatever. Might be the last chance we get for a while."

Kyle nodded at this, grabbing a pair of the newfound jeans and a t-shirt before heading into the bathroom.

"Want me to go with?" Kenny asked.

"Nah, stay here and see if there's anything else of value. I'll be fine," Stan said.

"Will do," Kenny agreed, saluting him playfully.

Stan slipped out of the hotel room as quietly as possible. The empty hallway was incredibly eerie and he made his way down it slowly, ears straining for any kind of sound. He reached the vending machine with no trouble then realized he hadn't brought anything to break the glass. Cursing under his breath, he looked around and almost cheered when he saw a fire extinguisher. He pulled it out of its case quickly before taking his shirt off and wrapping it, hoping to stifle the sound of breaking the glass. It took four swings, but he finally managed to shatter the glass separating him and the food inside of the vending machine. He dropped the fire extinguisher and gathered as many bags of chips and candy bars as he could carry.

When he got back to the room, Kyle was sitting on the bed wearing only his jeans and using a towel to dry his hair. The sound of running water in the bathroom told him that Kenny was in the shower. He deposited the food on the bed and smiled slightly when Kyle looked up.

"Nice," the redhead commented, "That should last us to Telluride."

Stan nodded, suddenly unable to tear his eyes away from Kyle's chest. The redhead was so pale his skin was nearly translucent. While he was slender, he did have some nice muscle tone. But Stan wouldn't go as far as to call him muscular. Lean was a more appropriate word. His stomach churned as his eyes trailed across his friend's torso, hungrily taking in every inch of his exposed flesh.

"Stan?" Kyle's voice broke Stan away from his thoughts, "You ok?"

Stan blinked and met his friend's gaze, "Y-Yeah…just spacing out, I guess…"

Kyle shrugged and pulled his t-shirt over his head. It was hunter green with a white peace symbol on the front. The room's former occupant was obviously closer to Stan's size, so the shirt hung loosely on Kyle's slender frame. Stan also noticed that his friend had rolled up the ends of his jeans and was using the strap of the suitcase as a belt. For some odd reason, Stan found the image of Kyle in clothes that were too big for him absolutely adorable. He mentally kicked himself when he realized he was staring again.

"Fuck…" he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Kyle asked.

"Nothing," Stan said, waving it off.

Thankfully, Kenny chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom. His golden blonde hair was still dripping but he had thrown on a new pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, both of which fit him pretty well.

"Shower's yours," Kenny said.

Stan nodded and left his two friends, looking forward to the chance to get under some hot water. He stripped quickly and turned on the water as hot as it could get. It burned his skin as he climbed into the shower, but he didn't care. Closing his eyes, he let the water stream down his body, seeming to take with it all the stress of the day. It was then that he allowed himself to think about his family. Tears burned at the backs of his eyes as the faces of his parents and Shelly flashed before them. He didn't even know if they were alive. He scrubbed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw tightly. His house had been ransacked by the time they had reached it. He knew that he should accept the fact that his family was most likely gone. But he couldn't help but cling to the hope that they had fled before everything went to shit. That they had escaped with their lives.

A quiet sob tore from his throat as his thoughts migrated to Cartman. Sure, Cartman was a complete asshole who treated them like crap, but he was still their friend. Their group wasn't complete without him. And watching Cartman get eaten right in front of him had scarred Stan terribly. As if it wasn't enough to lose one of his closest friends, he had to watch as the walkers ate him alive. Stan's stomach clenched when he realized that he had no idea what happened to any of his other classmates. While Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman were his closest friends, he had gone to school with his classmates since they were just kids. Thoughts of Wendy, Bebe, Craig, Tweek, Token, Clyde, Butters, and so many more passed through his mind, their happy, smiling faces mocking him. Tears over the loss of his friends and family streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the water from the shower.

He stayed under the warm spray for several more minutes before quickly washing his hair and scrubbing his skin furiously with soap. He then shut the water off and stepped out. Drying off quickly, he threw on a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt before rejoining his friends.

Kenny was sitting on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, aimlessly staring at the wall in front of him. Kyle was curled up beside him, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Stan climbed up next to him, assuming a position that mirrored Kenny's.

"I got everything packed into the smallest suitcase. Clothes, food, and the map. We should be ready to get out of here in the morning," Kenny told him, keeping his voice low so as to not wake their sleeping friend.

Stan nodded, "Thanks, dude." He glanced down at Kyle. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep," he admitted.

Kenny snorted, "Me neither. Don't know how the nerd does it."

Stan glanced over at Kenny, taking in the lost look in his eyes. While the four of them were all close, Stan and Kyle were super best friends while Kenny and Cartman had been super best friends. Stan knew that as much as Kenny fought with Cartman, he was taking the blow the hardest.

"I'm sorry," Stan said earnestly.

The corner of Kenny's mouth lifted briefly. "I wonder if anyone else got out," he said, changing the subject.

"I hope so," Stan said, "Especially Craig and his group."

"And Butters," Kenny added.

While Craig's group and Stan's group had fought constantly as children, they had banded together during high school. Granted, there was still a slight division between them, as Craig, Tweek, Token, and Clyde were all as close as Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman were, but they got along extremely well and often hung out as one big group. Butters had been quickly adopted into the group, as he was good friends with Tweek and Kenny, who were both in his art class.

"I just hope that if Tweek made it out, he's not alone," Kenny said quietly.

Stan shivered at the very thought. Tweek would be absolutely terrified. He wouldn't make it on his own. "Craig wouldn't let that happen," Stan said, "He'd die before he left Tweek alone. And if he did die, he'd kick Satan's ass and make him bring him back."

Kenny chuckled slightly in agreement before growing somber again as he thought about their lost friends. Stan shifted so that he was lying down. Though he doubted that he would get any sleep, he knew that he had to be awake and alert come morning.

"I'll take first watch," Kenny said.

"Wake me in a few hours," Stan told him.

Kenny just nodded to show that he heard.

Stan closed his eyes and shifted so that he was closer to Kyle. He was close enough to breath in the redhead's scent and it soothed him. To his surprise, he found himself drifting off quickly, the events of the day taking their toll. In a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

~o~o~o~

Kyle woke his friends when the sun began to rise in the horizon. He had managed to grab several hours of undisturbed sleep before Stan had woken him up for his shift. He checked the parking lot from the window as Kenny and Stan got themselves up and moving. There were no people in sight, alive or dead.

They left the hotel quickly, and stopped at the gas station on the edge of town. Kyle waited with Stan in the truck as Kenny filled the tank with gas.

"How long should it take us to get to Denver?" Stan asked.

Kyle had the map spread across his lap and had been working on mapping out a route. "It should be an all-day drive," he said, "I want to avoid any major roads because I don't want to get stuck in whatever traffic there is and I don't wanna cross paths with any walkers."

Stan nodded, "Makes sense."

Kenny poked his head in, "Truck's full. I'm gonna go inside and see if they have any of those gas containers. Don't wanna run out in the middle of nowhere."

"Want us to come with?" Stan asked.

"Nah, just guard my truck, will ya?" Kenny asked. Stan and Kyle nodded and watched him wearily as he headed over to the store.

Kyle made some final markings on the map before sighing and folding it up. He leaned against Stan's shoulder, exhausted despite the fact that he slept better than either of his friends.

"You can sleep, you know," Stan told him, blue eyes shining.

Kyle didn't answer. He just yawned and snuggled closer, resting his head against Stan's neck and squirming slightly when the tips of Stan's black hair tickled his forehead. His hair had grown since they were kids and was now just slightly past his ears. It framed his face nicely. Stan chuckled and threw an arm across his shoulders. While most people would find the position rather intimate for friends, Stan and Kyle were so close that it wasn't uncommon to find them like that.

"Wonder what the roads are gonna be like," Kyle said. "I mean, people most likely panicked and tried to leave, but I wonder how many people actually made it to the roads."

"Kyle."

"Hm?"

"Stop thinking. Go to sleep."

"If you insist," Kyle said, closing his eyes.

Kenny came back a few minutes later, jerking Kyle out of his half-dozing state. He was carrying three containers of gas, which he threw into the bed of the truck.

"Alright, Mr. Navigator," Kenny said, starting the truck and glancing pointedly at Kyle, "Where're we going?"

Kyle unfolded the map again. "We need to head west, so take a left out of here and then just go straight. That should take us towards 25. But we're gonna go past 25 and take some side roads."

Kenny grunted to show that he heard.

"Three hour driving shifts?" Stan suggested.

"Works for me," Kenny said.

Kyle nodded in agreement.

"Alright then," Stan said, "Telluride, here we come."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked it! Sorry it wasn't the most interesting chapter :( Things really start to pick up next chapter though, I promise!

Also, yes, I'm calling the zombies "walkers". For some reason, I like that name better, haha :P

Please review! Chapter 3 should be out sometime within the next couple of days :)

Thanks for reading! :P**  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Well, here you go! Chapter 3! :D Hope you enjoy it!

Another HUGE thank you to WxTxR, Bambi4ever, La petite tomate, Vanguard Bunny, and Person for reviewing! I love you guys! :D

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 3<em>

They stopped a grand total of six times on their way to Telluride: three times to switch drivers, twice to refill the truck's gas tank, and once to eat. They reached the small town just as the sun was beginning to set. Telluride was backed into the San Juan Mountains, a high and rugged range that was part of the Rocky Mountains. On the very east side of the town there were two waterfalls. Ingram Falls was visible from the town while Bridal Veil Falls was just out of sight, tucked into the rocky peaks. The town had a quaint air about it, with a predominantly brick and wooden buildings. The main road, Colorado Avenue, split the town in half and ran the entire way through. Along this road were most of Telluride's restaurants and stores. Most of the houses were located on the north side of Colorado Ave, some backed right up against the base of the mountains. All in all, it was a beautiful place.

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny entered the town on West Pacific Avenue. They had opted to take Black Bear Road, which was well known as one of the more treacherous roads in Colorado, to the outskirts. Stan was glad that they had decided to take Black Bear Road instead of 145. Though it dipped, climbed, and winded enough to remind Stan of a rollercoaster, the road had been deserted.

Once they entered the town, Kenny killed the headlights of the truck and slowed down considerably. The three teens scanned the streets carefully, half-expecting something to come jumping out at them. When nothing did, Kyle directed Kenny to Colorado Ave. If they were looking for supplies, the best place to start was the main road. They were surprised to see that many of the stores had been boarded up. Wooden planks covered windows and barred doors. Many of the buildings, however, looked like they had been ransacked anyway. There were sections torn out of the makeshift wooden shutters and some parts looked as if they had been chewed through. A shiver ran down Stan's spine when he realized that this was probably the case.

"Looks like these people knew it was coming," Kenny commented.

Kyle nodded, "Looks like it didn't do them any good though."

Stan watched sadly as they continued down the road.

"Hey, dudes, look at that," Kenny said, pointing to a store on the right side of the road. It was boarded up like the rest of the stores, but there was a sign hanging from the door that read _Telluride Sports_.

"I bet we can find something useful there!" Stan said.

Kenny parked the truck against the curb and killed the engine. They climbed out, still scanning the street wearily. There was no way to know if anything was hiding in the seemingly abandoned buildings. The wood that was covering the windows of the sports store was still intact but the door had been forced open at some time, and had never been shut all the way.

"Stay close," Kenny whispered, carefully pushing the door open. It swung noiselessly on its hinges and revealed a darkened room. Stan and Kyle followed Kenny closely as the blonde began making his way through the aisles. After about five minutes, they had swept the entire store and had found nothing.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Stan turned his attention to the wall next to him where there a single baseball bat hanging off of a hook. He took it down and swung it, testing the weight. A grin spread across his face as he swung it again. He had a weapon. Kenny emerged from the aisle next to him holding a hockey stick. He smirked at Stan and nodded in approval. Stan turned his attention back to the now empty wall.

"I wonder if they had a shortage of bats, or if people grabbed them to protect themselves," he mused aloud.

"Probably for protection," Kyle said, coming up behind him. The redhead was carrying a lacrosse stick. "There were only three of these left."

"Five," Kenny said, raising his hockey stick slightly.

"So," Stan said, trying to get his mind off of what could have happened to the people of Telluride, "Weapons, check. What now?"

"Food," Kenny said, his stomach growling in agreement.

Stan was about to say something when suddenly a hand covered his mouth. Blue eyes wide with shock, he glanced over at Kyle, who had his other hand over Kenny's mouth.

"Shhhh," the redhead hissed, "_Listen_."

And Stan did. At first he didn't hear anything, and he was supremely tempted to pry his friend's hand off of his mouth, but then a small noise made him stop. It sounded like something was shuffling across the floor in the aisle behind them. He exchanged a look with Kenny, whose blue eyes were probably as wide as his own. Kyle took his hands away and picked up his lacrosse stick, green eyes turning toward the sound. A low groan rose from the back of the store.

"Guys…we didn't check the back room," Kyle whispered, his voice shaking with horror.

Stan tightened his grip on his baseball bat, restraining himself from cursing. Kenny nudged both of them and jerked his head towards the front door. Stan and Kyle nodded and they quietly began to make their way towards it. Stan's heart was beating so furiously, it was a wonder that his friends couldn't hear it. There was more shuffling in the back, leading him to believe that there was more than one of the walkers in the store with them. His palms began to sweat and he had to consciously keep his breathing steady and quiet. Fear gripped him tightly and he could feel his hands begin to shake. They were almost at the end of the aisle. Once they rounded the corner, it was a straight shot to the front door.

Stan turned the corner of the aisle and came face to face with a woman – or, what _had been_ a woman at one point. She snarled and pounced at him with a speed that caught him off guard. "FUCK!" Stan shouted, ducking out of her way. Kyle followed suit, but Kenny tightened his grip on his hockey stick and swung, hitting the woman across the face. She shrieked and stumbled, her head whipping to the side at the strength of the blow.

Stan turned and faced the back of the store, jaw dropping when five other walkers came bursting from the aisles.

"RUN!" Kyle screamed, grabbing Stan by the shoulder and pulling him towards the door. The trio sprinted for the door. Stan glanced back over his shoulder, shocked by the fact that the walkers were sprinting after them.

"Faster!" He told his friends, "They're coming fast!"

Kenny was the first to reach the front door. He kicked it open without even breaking his stride. Kyle and Stan were right behind him. "The truck!" Kenny shouted. Before they could get there, however, another walker stepped into their path, blood and some kind of black liquid oozing out of its mouth and dripping onto the sidewalk.

"This way!" Kyle said, taking off down the street. With no other choice, Stan and Kenny followed him.

Moans and snarls erupted behind them as the walkers gave chase.

"Where're we going?" Stan called after the redhead, who was still a few paces in front of him.

"We need to get back to the truck," Kyle explained, looking back over his shoulder, "And there's no way we're gonna get past those things."

Kenny frowned, "And what does this have to do with us running _away_ from my truck?"

"We're running around the block," Stan said, slightly awed that Kyle had thought of that, "That way we'll end up back at the truck without having to face the walkers head-on."

"Dude…" Kenny breathed, staring at the redhead.

The growls behind them seemed louder and Stan risked another glance over his shoulder. He nearly froze in shock when he saw how close the walkers were.

"They're gaining on us!" He warned his friends.

They turned a corner towards the end of the street. Kenny had managed to bring himself to the front of the group. Kyle was right behind him, followed closely by Stan. As soon as Stan rounded the corner, a hand reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into an alleyway. Another hand clamped over his mouth and Stan watched with horrified fascination as the group of walkers sprinted by.

"Follow me," a voice whispered in his ear before the person released him.

'_Wait…_' Stan thought, following the stranger and his friends quickly, '_I know that voice!'_

The stranger led them to a door about a hundred feet down the alleyway. He knocked six times and there was the sound of a lock clicking. The door swung open and Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were ushered in quickly. The room was dark, but there was a small light on in the corner. In its yellow glow, Stan could make out the face of Craig Tucker.

"Craig?" Stan asked.

Craig nodded and opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by another voice. "Kyle? Stan? Kenny?" Stan's eyes widened as Clyde Donovan stepped into the light.

"Dude…" Kenny breathed.

"I'm so glad you guys are safe!" Clyde cried, hugging each of them tightly.

Stan couldn't help but laugh at the brunette. Now a senior in high school, Clyde was still a crybaby. He was also still slightly chubby, but nowhere near as big as Cartman.

Craig leaned up against the wall and nodded to them. "It's good to see a familiar face," he said simply. Craig hadn't changed a bit since elementary school. He was still the school asshole who was well known for flipping people off on a daily basis. But once their groups had combined, Stan had come to find Craig a decent person, as long as you stayed on his good side.

"Is it only you two?" Kyle asked, looking around.

Craig and Clyde nodded silently.

"After everything went to hell at school, we…we ran," Clyde began explaining, "we tried so hard to find Tweek, Butters, and Token, but it was impossible in all the chaos. We had no choice but to leave them behind."

"We don't even know if they made it out alive," Craig finished, eyes trained on the ground.

Clyde put a hand on Craig's shoulder and, to Stan's surprise, the noirette didn't push him away. Stan took a closer look at Craig and noticed how tired and haggard he looked. There were dark bruises under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept since the entire world went to hell. With his trademark chullo missing, Stan could see that his black hair was messy, as if he had been running his fingers through it.

"I'm sorry," Stan said earnestly, "About Butters, Tweek and Token." He missed them too. Token was a solid friend, very dependable and was always willing to lend a hand. Tweek, while he was still utterly insane, was one of the nicest people Stan had ever met. Butters was possibly the sweetest person on the planet. They were good friends, and the thought of them being gone forever made Stan's heart ache.

"What about Cartman?" Craig asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from their lost friends.

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny shared a look. Finally, it was Kenny who spoke up. "He didn't make it," was all the blonde said. And, truly, it was enough.

"I'm sorry," Clyde whispered, tears forming in his eyes as he thought about the lost members of their group.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, all thinking about Butters, Tweek, Token, and Cartman.

It was Kyle who finally broke the silence. "What is this place anyway?" He asked.

"It's a coffee shop," Craig said quietly, not looking up.

"We…uh…well it's pretty well boarded up so we figured we could hide out here for a while," Clyde said, glancing over at Craig.

"How long have you been here?" Kyle asked, addressing Clyde but looking thoughtfully at Craig.

"We got here yesterday," Clyde said, "Things were still pretty bad. We really lucked out with this place."

"How many of those things are still out there?" Kenny asked.

Clyde shrugged, "Hell if I know. I'd actually started to think they'd all left, till you guys showed up and drew some out."

"You realize we're sitting ducks here, right?" Kyle asked, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know if you two have seen the extent of the damage out there, but these things are ripping through the makeshift wooden shutters."

"We haven't had any problems here," Clyde said, swallowing nervously.

"Yeah, but, think about it," Kyle urged, "We were chased here by walkers. Sure, they didn't follow us into the alley, but they know that there's fresh meat running around. They'll find us. Just give them time."

"Well what do you suggest?" Craig asked, "Our car was stolen by a bunch of assholes. It's not like we can run out of here. Those things are fast and if they catch us, we're screwed."

"My truck's parked right outside the _Telluride Sports_," Kenny said, "Nearly full tank of gas with an extra in the bed."

"Perfect!" Clyde cheered.

"But guys, getting to the truck is gonna be impossible," Kyle said, "Those things are probably still looking for us. They're like hungry animals. They won't stop until they find us."

"Then we beat our way through," Kenny said, swinging his hockey stick over one shoulder, "I'd actually like to bash some of those walkers' faces in."

"I think we should wait until morning," Stan said.

They group looked at him questioningly.

He shrugged, "Well, I just figure that they'll have an advantage in the dark. If we do this in broad daylight, at least we'll be able to see them coming."

Kyle nodded, "He has a point."

"Fine, so tomorrow, we're busting out of here," Kenny said, his blue eyes gleaming.

"Tomorrow," Stan agreed, setting his baseball bat against the wall.

"So, now that that's done, where's the food at?" Kenny asked, patting his stomach and frowning.

Clyde laughed and walked over to the counted. "There're some muffins and scones back here," he said, waving them over, "And, of course, there's coffee. And some water bottles in the fridge."

"_Perfect_," Kenny practically moaned, immediately grabbing whatever was within reach.

Stan and Kyle just exchanged a look before rolling their eyes and following suit.

~o~o~o~

Kyle couldn't sleep. He was curled up next to Stan on the floor, supposedly sharing a blanket with him, but Stan had stolen most of it. Something just didn't feel right. The redhead sighed and sat up, cracking his neck with a loud _pop_. He had been assigned to the second shift of watch, so he figured that he might as well stay awake until then. Turning to the front of the room, Kyle noticed that Craig was sitting alone at a booth, a cup in his hands. He was slumped over, giving Kyle the impression that he was asleep. The illusion was broken, however, when the other boy lifted the cup to his lips and drank deeply. Kyle stood up and walked over. He took the seat across from the noirette.

"What're you doing?" Craig asked lowly, not even looking up.

"Couldn't sleep," Kyle said simply.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Craig continued to nurse his drink, which Kyle came to recognize as coffee. The redhead should have been puzzled by this – Craig Tucker _did not_ drink coffee – but he wasn't. Not in the least.

"Craig," he started gently, "I'm sorry about Tweek."

Craig's grip on the cup tightened, but he didn't say anything.

"I know how you must be feeling," Kyle continued, "And I just wanted to say that – "

Craig's head snapped up, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "You know how I feel?" He practically snarled, "_You know how I feel?_ Bullshit. You have _no idea_. No _fucking_ idea." His hands were shaking now. "You lost Cartman, who was a total dick to you for pretty much your whole life. You lost your family, but guess what? _So did all of us_. _You_ still have the people you love the most. You know _nothing_ about what I'm feeling right now."

Kyle was shocked at Craig's reaction, but the shock slowly turned into understanding. While Kyle had always had his suspicions, now, he no longer felt any doubt. "You loved him," he said softly.

Craig's eyes suddenly seemed much brighter than normal. And everything clicked into place. Why else would Craig and Clyde take shelter in a coffee shop that was on the main street of the town, where there was bound to be the highest amount of danger? Why else would Craig, who hated drinking coffee with a passion, suddenly throw down the liquid as if it was the only thing keeping him alive? Why else would Craig Tucker – school asshole who didn't give a fuck about anything – be on the verge of tears. Craig was in love with Tweek. Kyle took in Craig's appearance again, realizing that the dark circles under his eyes were indeed from not sleeping since South Park had been overrun. His hair was messy because he needed something to grab onto to anchor himself. He was a mess. He was lost.

"I love him. I always will," Craig corrected after a few minutes of silence, "Don't use past tense."

Kyle nodded quietly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"My shift is up," Craig said bluntly, standing up and walking back towards the group without even looking at Kyle.

"Craig?" Kyle called after him.

Craig stopped but he didn't turn around.

"Get some sleep," Kyle said.

Craig characteristically flipped him off before lying down near Clyde, back still facing the redhead.

Kyle sighed and slumped in his seat, turning his head towards the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

~o~o~o~

Stan knew something was wrong as soon as he woke up. The room was deathly quiet and there was no sunlight filtering through the small cracks in the wood. Something had woken him up. Suddenly, Kyle's panicked face was inches from his own.

"Dude, what – ?" Stan started before his friend clasped a hand over his mouth.

Kyle held a finger up to his lips and pointed at the front door. Stan sat up quietly, straining his ears for any kind of sound. Then he heard it. Something was scratching at the wood covering the door.

"_Fuck_," Stan hissed. He turned to Kyle, stomach churning at the blatant fear that he saw on the redhead's face. "We have to wake the others," Stan whispered. Kyle nodded. Stan managed to wake up Craig and Clyde quietly while Kyle woke Kenny up.

"Out the back door," Craig whispered, gripping a large axe that Stan had not noticed before. Clyde was right behind him, a large carving knife in his hand.

They filed out of the building in a line: Craig at the front followed by Clyde, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny bringing up the back. The alleyway was empty, but they could hear snarls coming from the other side of the building.

"Head around the block," Kyle whispered, "If they're crowding around the store's front, we can get to the truck before them by going around."

Craig nodded, quickly leading the group down the alleyway. He paused at the exit, glancing out carefully, before slipping out to the right. The others followed him quickly, staying close to the brick surface of the side of the building. The road behind the coffee shop was deserted, much to their relief. It seemed that whatever walkers were left were all crowding around the entrance to the coffee store. Their luck was short lived, however, when a group of three walkers suddenly came bursting out of the window next to Stan. Stan couldn't help but cry out as he was knocked off balance and tumbled to the ground.

"Stan!" He heard Kyle yelling, though it was a bit hard to concentrate with the horrifying face of man hovering only inches above his own.

"FUCK!" Stan yelled, trying to push the creature off of him. The walker growled and leaned down, blood coated teeth aiming for his skin.

Suddenly the weight on his chest was gone and the walker was thrown off of him. Kyle had a tight grip on the thing's tattered shirt had had managed to heave him away. It quickly ripped out of Kyle's grip, but the redhead was ready, bringing his lacrosse stick down on the creature's head. There was a loud crack and the walker dropped like dead weight. Kyle's eyes were wide and his breath was coming in short gasps, obviously freaking out.

Stan scrambled to his feet and hugged him briefly. "I owe you one," he breathed, heart still racing furiously in his chest.

Kyle just nodded numbly before they turned back to the group. Kenny was beating the crap out of a walker with his hockey stick, a wild gleam in his eyes. Stan heard bones snap from the blows. Finally, Kenny broke its neck with a well-aimed swing. Clyde and Craig had meanwhile decapitated the third walker, blood dripping from both of their weapons.

"Holy shit, dude," Clyde breathed.

"We need to go," Kyle said, "_Now._"

Throwing caution into the wind, the boys began sprinting down the road. Groans and growls erupted behind them and when Stan glanced back, he saw that another group of walkers was hot on their heels.

When they rounded the corner of Colorado Ave, Stan almost stopped in shock. The walkers were swarming _everywhere_. There were at least fifty of them stumbling around the road, most of which were gnawing and scratching through the wood blocking the coffee shop.

"The truck!" Kenny shouted, charging forward, hockey stick raised over his head.

The others followed suit. Stan gripped his baseball bat so tightly his hand began to hurt. Hearing the commotion, the walkers abandoned the coffee shop and sprinted towards them with a speed that still surprised Stan.

"Hit them in the heads!" Clyde shouted over the sound of shrieking and snarling, "They'll drop like flies!"

A little girl lunged at Stan, arms outstretched and eyes rolling madly. Stan took Clyde's advice and swung at her head, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when the girl was thrown to the ground and didn't get back up. Then, suddenly, the walkers were upon them. Stan swung blindly, more focused on staying out of their reach than actually killing them. He felt his bat connect with flesh several times, but he began to panic when hands began grabbing at him harshly. They were everywhere!

"The truck! The truck!" Kenny kept shouting, voice barely audible over the chaos. "Get to the truck!"

Stan began forcing his way through the mob of the undead, bashing skulls and ducking below outstretched arms as he went. More than once, he felt a creature's teeth brush over the surface of his skin, but thankfully never breaking it. He moved faster, dodging more than swinging now.

Kenny and Clyde were already at the truck when Stan reached it. Kenny threw himself into the driver's seat and started it. Clyde and Stan clambered into the bed, fighting off walkers when they tried to follow.

"Kyle! Craig!" Clyde shouted.

Stan's stomach twisted painfully as he watched the redhead force his way towards them, using both ends of the lacrosse stick to ward off walkers. Craig was right behind him, chopping heads off with strong swings of his axe. They reached the truck in a matter of seconds and were pulled in by their friends. Stan had Kyle half-way in the truck when a walker grabbed his legs.

"NO!" Stan shouted, pulling harder and Kyle tried to kick the creature off.

"Fuck!" Kyle cried, thrashing uselessly as he watched the walker lower its mouth.

Before the creature could sink its teeth into Kyle's leg, however, Craig took a wild swing and managed to slice its head off. Stan immediately hauled him friend into the truck. Kyle furiously kicked the corpse away.

"Drive, Kenny! Drive!" Stan shouted, pulling Kyle against his chest and hugging him tightly. Kenny hit the gas and the truck jumped forward, running over several walkers that wandered into its path. The tires of the truck squealed as they took off, speeding furiously down the road. Stan, Kyle, Craig, and Clyde watched as the walkers tried to catch up to them, but they were no match for the truck and were quickly left behind.

Kyle was shaking in Stan's arms, his eyes wide with terror. Stan buried his face in his red locks, trying not to think about how close he had been to losing him.

"Craig," Kyle said, shifting in Stan's arms so that he could face the other boy. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Craig just nodded and flipped him off out of habit. Clyde sighed dramatically and collapsed onto his back.

"Dude…I'm so not cool with this," the brunette whined.

No one answered him, but Stan's lips lifted slightly. They remained silent as they sped away, leaving Telluride behind them.

~o~o~o~

They stopped when the sun began to set, all admittedly nervous about being outside in the dark. They pulled off at an abandoned house that was built at the top of a hill. There were no other buildings in sight, so the boys agreed that the house would be their safest bet. They trudged up to it slowly and carefully, worn out from the events of the day. The front door was locked, but Kyle managed to cut the lock with Clyde's knife (how he did it, Stan would never know). Stan entered first, creeping silently inside, eyes straining in the darkness. He made his way further inside, listening intently for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, something heavy and blunt collided with his head.

"Fuck!" He yelled, hands instinctively coming up to grab his throbbing head.

"S…Stan?" A voice came from the shadows. A very familiar voice.

Stan froze and turned towards the figure. His eyes widened.

"Holy _shit_."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well there you go! Things are starting to get exciting huh? :D I'm already working on chapter 4, but, unfortunately, I probably won't be able to update for a few days :( I'm gonna be really busy until the weekend, so I won't have as much time to work on it. But if chapter 4 isn't posted sometime this week, I'll definitely have it done by the end of the weekend. Promise!

Please review! I wanna know what you guys think! :D

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I know, I know. I said I'd have this chapter up DAYS ago. I'm SO sorry! Things here are a little crazy. I'm also completely buried with summer work (seriously, teachers don't understand the meaning of the word VACATION) which just adds to the insanity -_- I also know that I didn't reply to your reviews :( I'm so sorry about that too! I promise to do that for this chapter (so...you should definitely review it...*hint hint*).

Anyway, Toolazytosignin, Person, Vanguard Bunny, Bambi4ever, WxTxR, Ace-of-black, ButterscotchRipple, Seneschal, and MitchieP, thank you guys SO MUCH for reviewing! You guys ROCK! I love you all so much :D

Well, enjoy it! I sure as hell enjoyed writing it (especially one particular scene...you should be able to guess which one it is ;) haha).

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 4<em>

"_Butters?_" Stan gasped, unable to believe his eyes.

The person in front of him was about six inches shorter, his head only coming up to Stan's chin. Despite being mostly shrouded in shadow, the sky blue eyes and light blonde hair were unmistakable. Butters was holding a crowbar tightly in his right hand – probably what had hit him in the head, Stan figured.

"Wha…what are you doing here?" Butters stammered, eyes wide with shock.

"I could ask you the same question," Stan responded, unable to keep himself from staring.

"Hiding," Butters said simply, rubbing his knuckles together nervously.

Before Stan could say anything, Kyle came running through the door, lacrosse stick held over his head in a striking position. "Stan!" The redhead gasped, once he noticed that there was nothing for him to attack. "What happened? I heard you yell, are you ok?" Kyle paused, staring at Butters with a look of utmost shock on his face. "_Butters_?"

"H-hi Kyle," Butters said, smiling sheepishly.

Kyle's jaw dropped. Stan would have found his facial expression hilarious if he hadn't been so surprised himself. Before anyone could say anything else, Craig, Kenny, and Clyde came rushing through the door. All three stopped and stared at Butters as if they were seeing a ghost.

"Craig, Clyde, Kenny!" Butters gasped, grinning happily, "It's great to see all of you guys!"

"Butters!" Kenny exclaimed, grabbing the smaller blonde in a tight hug, "You're alive!"

Butters giggled, shock at his friends' appearance obviously gone. When Kenny put Butters down, Clyde, Stan, and Kyle each gave him a hug, grinning happily at seeing their friend alive and well. Craig just nodded and kept his distance, not one for physical contact.

"Is there anyone else with you?" Clyde asked, craning his neck in an attempt to see further into the house.

"Yeah!" Butters exclaimed excitedly, "Follow me!"

He led them down a long hallway to a door on the right. He knocked three times and, with the sound of a lock unclicking, the door swung open to reveal a very confused Token. The dark skinned teen opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Token!" Clyde cried, throwing himself at his friend and hugging him tightly.

Token chuckled and quickly found his voice, "Clyde! Dude, you guys are alive!"

"Token!" Kenny said, clapping the other teen on the shoulder, "It's good to see you!"

Token laughed, pulling out of Clyde's embrace. "Thank god you guys got out safely. We were worried!" He looked around then frowned, "Where's Cartman?"

"He didn't make it," Kenny said, smile dropping from his face.

Token's brown eyes softened, "I'm sorry."

"Where's Tweek?" Craig spoke up for the first time.

"Sleeping," Token said, a small smile gracing his face, "Poor kid hasn't sleep in days."

Craig's eyes widened and he pushed past Token, scanning the room. His gaze fell on the small figure curled up on the couch and he quietly made his way over. Stan watched in shock as the other teen knelt down next to the couch and started gently stroking the small blonde's hair.

"Come on," Token said softly, "Let's give them some space." He led everyone out of the room and closed the door behind them. He then motioned for them to follow him into the kitchen.

"How long have you been here?" Kyle asked.

"Since yesterday morning," Token said, rummaging through the cabinets and producing a large bag of chips. "Sorry, there isn't really anything to eat," he apologized sheepishly.

"You kidding me? I could _live_ off of this stuff!" Clyde said, grabbing a handful and stuffing them in his mouth.

Token chuckled before turning his attention to Kyle, "How did you guys end up here?"

"Well we drove over to Telluride yesterday," Kyle said, "That's where we found Craig and Clyde. We were planning on leaving this morning, but the walkers ran us out late last night. We've been on the road ever since. We stopped because the sun was setting. Didn't really wanna spend the night on the road."

Token nodded, "Well thank god you guys stopped here."

"Sorry I hit you on the head, Stan," Butters said, staring at his feet, "I'm r-real glad you fellas are here."

"Don't worry about it Butters," Stan said, rubbing the sore spot just above his forehead, "No harm done."

"Do you know if anyone else got out?" Kenny asked.

Token and Butters both shook their heads.

"It was awful," Butters said, bumping his knuckles together, "Everyone was screaming and running. I don't even know how _we_ got out."

"I was just lucky that Butters and Tweek were with me when all hell broke loose," Token said, "It was hard enough getting out of the building. I saw some kids get out to the street, but, as I'm sure you know, the street wasn't much better."

"Yeah," Stan said, frowning, "What the hell happened anyway? Where did the walkers come from?"

Token shrugged, "Who knows? Even the news team didn't have any idea."

"Did you have any trouble on the way here?" Kyle asked.

Butters nodded, "We stopped to get gas about an hour outside of South Park. Probably wasn't the best idea."

"Tweek was the one who found them," Token said, sighing, "He went into the store to grab some food. Couldn't calm the poor kid down for hours afterwards."

"Yeah, this has gotta be driving him crazy," Kenny commented, "How's he holding up?"

"Well, he'll be better now that Craig's here," Token answered honestly.

Stan couldn't help but notice Kyle glance back at the bedroom door with a calculating look. For some reason, he felt as if the redhead knew something they didn't.

~o~o~o~

Craig couldn't believe it. He had thought that Tweek was dead. Yet, here he was, sleeping fitfully before him. The noirette ran a hand through the small teen's messy hair, enjoying the feeling of the blonde locks running between his fingers. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the smaller boy, still unable to believe that he was really there. When he and Clyde had left South Park High, he had been forced to give up hope of ever finding Tweek. That was something that had shaken him to his very core. Craig hadn't cried when Stripe died. He hadn't cried when a friend of his died in a car accident. He hadn't cried when his grandfather died. Hell, he probably wouldn't cry if his parents died. But just the mere thought of Tweek dying in the grips of those terrible creatures had caused the tears to come. If Clyde had noticed, he never said anything.

Craig and Tweek had become friends shortly after their fight in third grade. Once they realized that Cartman, Stan, and Kyle had been manipulating them, they also realized that they had no reason to hate each other. Their friendship had grown quickly, starting with sitting together at lunch. Soon, Craig and Tweek were walking home together, having sleepovers nearly every weekend, and hanging out every chance they got. By the beginning of fourth grade, they were inseparable.

When the two teens hit high school, they only grew closer. They walked together to every class, ate lunch together, sat together in every class that they shared, and after school, Craig did his homework at Harbucks while Tweek worked the register. Many of their classmates even considered them closer than Stan and Kyle.

It was freshman year when Craig began to realize that his feelings for the twitchy coffee-addict ran much deeper than just friendship. At first, he had denied it, chalking it up to the fact that he had never had such a close friend. However, watching Kenny flirt with the smaller blonde had caused a furious churning in his stomach, and when he began to grow increasingly irritable around the orange-clad teen, Craig had to come to terms with it.

He loved the younger boy's constant twitching. He loved the sounds he made when he was nervous. He loved the way he unconsciously tugged at his hair. He loved how dependent Tweek was on him. He loved how, when Tweek was scared, he would cling to Craig and wrap his fingers in the strings of his chullo.

He loved Tweek Tweak.

Most people would have tried to suppress these feelings, too afraid of ruining their friendship with the other person. But not Craig. Craig Tucker took what he wanted, to hell with the consequences. So, at homecoming, Craig had dragged a very nervous Tweek onto the dance floor and had danced with him to Phil Collins'_ You'll be in My Heart_. When the music stopped and people began to leave, Craig had pulled the blonde close and kissed him. And when Tweek kissed him back, Craig was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

They decided to keep their relationship a secret. While homosexuality wasn't exactly frowned upon in South Park (and how could it be, with people like Mr. Garrison?), it wasn't exactly encouraged either. Craig had a feeling that Token and Clyde knew, but if they did, they never mentioned it. The only other person who knew now was Kyle, though he didn't yet understand the depth of their relationship.

Craig gazed down adoringly at his boyfriend, still running his fingers through his wild blonde hair, and allowed a small smile to stretch across his face. Tweek whimpered in his sleep, shifting restlessly. There were dark purple bags underneath his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. While Tweek had never been much of a sleeper (caffeine from all of the coffee he drank make it incredibly difficult for him to fall asleep), he had been sleeping much more often since the beginning of junior year. Mostly because Craig had started to stay over. Tweek usually curled into the older teen's chest and eventually dozed off to the sound of Craig's heartbeat. Seeing him like this hurt.

Craig watched as the large, hazel eyes that he adored fluttered open. He moved his hand from Tweek's hair down to cup his face, rubbing soothing circles into his cheek. His heart fluttered as Tweek's eyes closed again, sighing in appreciation of the touch. Craig leaned down and pressed his forehead against the blonde's before moving down to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

"C…Craig?" Tweek whimpered, eyes opening again.

"Hey Tweekers," Craig whispered, smiling softly.

Tweek's eyes widened and Craig's heart lurched when he saw them begin to shine with tears. "O-oh God! You're…you're here!" Tweek gasped, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and burying his face in his neck.

"Yeah, Tweek," Craig said, fighting back his own tears, "I'm here."

"I thought…_ngh_…I thought you were d-dead!" Tweek cried, tightening his grip, "I couldn't find you! And Token...he…he said we had to…_ngh_…l-leave! I didn't wanna leave you! But – _oh Jesus_ – they were _everywhere_!"

Craig rubbed soothing circles into Tweek's back. He felt the shoulder of his jacket grow damp, and he knew that Tweek was crying. A lone tear ran down his own cheek and he pulled the blonde closer. "It's ok Tweek," he said, "I'm safe. I'm here. And I promise you, I will _never_ leave you again. Do you hear me?"

Tweek inhaled shakily and nodded. Craig pulled away from the embrace and cupped Tweek's cheeks with both hands. The blonde's hazel eyes were shining, and his cheeks were flushed and stained with tears. Craig kissed him softly and Tweek melted into the kiss. When they parted, Craig pressed his forehead to Tweek's once again, closing his eyes and enjoying the comfort the contact brought.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Tweek sat up and tugged at Craig's jacket, hazel eyes pleading. Craig took the hint and settled down on the couch behind him. They laid down again, Craig pulling Tweek against his chest and wrapping his arms around him tightly. He buried his face in Tweek's hair and breathed in the blonde's familiar scent. Tweek's breaths evened out after a few minutes and it was only then that Craig let himself doze off, soothed by the steady rise and fall of the other boy's chest.

~o~o~o~

"The closest town is about twenty miles from here," Kyle said, pointing to a point of the map, "We're gonna have to move eventually. We'll run out of food if we stay here. I figure if we stay away from heavily populated areas, we should be ok."

"Do you have a destination in mind?" Token asked, looking over Kyle's shoulder at the map, "Do you guys know if there's any safe place?"

Kenny shook his head, "No, but the news said that they'd be broadcasting on the radio."

"We actually have a radio," Butters said, "But it mostly plays static."

"Are you guys on the right channel?" Stan asked.

"Yeah," Butters replied, "Channel seven."

"We heard some stuff yesterday morning," Token said, "But nothing since then."

"Great…" Kyle grumbled. He stood up and began pacing, "Well…in the meantime…what do we know about these things?"

"Headshots," Clyde said simply, grinning impishly while Token rolled his eyes.

"They're r-real fast!" Butters added.

"One bite will turn you into one of them," Kenny said.

"They're attracted to light and loud sounds," Stan said.

"They're afraid of fire," Token added.

"Really?" Kyle asked.

"Yup," Token said simply, not bothering to explain.

"Ok," Kyle said, "And they also don't seem to prefer either the night or the day."

"So how does that help us?" Stan asked.

"Know your enemy," Kenny said, smirking.

"We know how to kill them," Kyle said, "And we know their…hunting habits. We also know how to ward them off if there're too many to kill. Kenny's right, the more we know about them, the better."

Stan opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice in the other room.

"Is that…?" Kyle asked, staring at his friends.

They all exchanged a glance before hurrying into the other room.

"The radio!" Token exclaimed, running to the small black box and turning up the volume.

"_This is an emergency broadcast._" The voice droned with what sounded like an English accent, "_We have secured a safe place southwest of Ashland, Maine. Our coordinates are 45N,-69W. We can provide food, shelter, and protection. Survivors out there: you are not alone."_

The voice faded out. A few seconds later, however, the message repeated itself.

"Looks like they've set it on a loop," Token said, turning the radio down slightly.

"What do you guys think?" Kyle asked, rummaging through some drawers before finally pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. He listened to the broadcast again and jotted down the coordinates.

"I think we head out tomorrow," Token said, "We're nearly out of food, so we'll need to move soon anyway. Besides, it's gonna take us at least a week to get to Maine. The sooner we head out, the better."

Kyle nodded and moved back into the kitchen where the map was still spread over the counter. He tapped the pen against his lips, eyes scanning the paper in front of him. He put a mark where the coordinates met.

"It's over 2,000 miles away," the redhead remarked, "I think Token's right. The sooner we start, the better."

"We'll head out in the morning, then," Token said. "That said, why don't you guys get some sleep? You've had a long day. Butters and I can split the watch shifts tonight."

"Thanks Token," Kenny said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

Token smiled, "Don't mention it. Now go get some sleep. You guys look dead on your feet."

Kenny chuckled darkly but nodded, throwing an arm across Butters' shoulders and leading him to the back room where Craig and Tweek were. Kyle and Stan both nodded to Token before following. Upon entering the room, Stan was shocked to see Craig and Tweek curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

"Dude," he whispered, nudging Kyle, "Look."

Kyle smiled softly, a knowing look in his eyes. He just shook his head and put a finger to his lips when Stan opened his mouth to say something. Stan shut his mouth and nodded, taking the hint. Kyle then stole a blanket and a pillow from the bed and made himself comfortable on the floor. Stan followed suit, lying down next to him. Kenny and Butters took the bed, both blondes yawning as they climbed under the sheets.

Stan was surprised when he felt himself begin to drift off, having expected to be unable to sleep. But the long day took its toll and his eyes slid shut. With little resistance, he fell into the dark embrace of sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you go! Sorry it's not as long as the last chapter :( Next one is a long one!

Unfortunately, with the way things are right now, I'm probably gonna have to move to weekly updates :( I would like to be able to update more often, but with the amount of work I have, that's gonna be pretty much impossible. So, look for updates on Fridays :D

Also, for anyone who hasn't heard _You'll Be in My Heart_, go listen to it NOW. It reminds me of Creek so much!

Please review! And thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** OMG, I am soooooo sorry about the delay! I know I promised to have this chapter posted by Friday! I really meant to have it posted by then, too! This chapter simply DID NOT want to be written. It fought me tooth and nail the entire time :( I promise you, I will try as hard as I possibly can to make sure that never happens again!

A HUGE thanks to Bambi4ever, Raining Skittles, S.E. Mellark, WxTxR, Vanguard Bunny, Person, ButterscotchRipple, and aaaaa for reviewing! I love all of you so much!

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 5<em>

When Craig woke up the next morning, Tweek was still fast asleep, curled up against his chest. The noirette closed his eyes again and buried his face in Tweek's hair, trying to maintain his hold on the blanket of sleep. Unfortunately, someone clearing their throat caused his eyes to slide open again.

"Sorry, but we gotta get going," Kyle said, keeping his voice low. "We'll wait for you guys outside. If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm sending Kenny after you."

Craig snorted but nodded, watching the redhead leave the room. Sighing, he sat up, careful not to disturb the small blonde lying beside him. He climbed off the couch then crouched down so that his face was level with his sleeping boyfriend's. Smiling slightly, Craig kissed his forehead then left the room.

The thing about Tweek was, while he rarely slept, the times when he _was_ asleep, it was nearly impossible to wake him. Craig knew that there was only one thing that could pull his blonde boyfriend back to the world of the living: coffee. Thankfully the family who had lived in the house had left their coffee behind, and Craig had a steaming cup full of the brown liquid in a matter of minutes.

Tweek's eyes fluttered open almost immediately when Craig kneeled down next to him, cup held firmly in his hands.

"_Ngh_…what time is it?" Tweek asked, sitting up and accepting the coffee gratefully.

"Almost nine," Craig said, smiling as he watched Tweek gulp down the coffee like his life depended on it.

After about a minute, Tweek sighed and placed the now-empty cup down of the floor. He then stood and stretched, yawning in the process.

"Are you packed?" Craig asked, scanning the room for any kind of bag.

"I just have to…_ngh_…grab my b-backpack," Tweek said, fumbling around under the bed. He let out a small grunt of triumph and pulled out a small green backpack. The top was unzipped, and inside, Craig could see something blue. Tweek must have seen it too, because his eyes widened and he reached in to grab it. Craig blinked in surprise when the blonde pulled out his chullo.

"That's…" he said, pointing to it.

Tweek blushed and looked down at it, refusing to meet Craig's eyes.

"I f-found it w-when we were…_ngh_…running from school," the blonde explained, "I thought…I thought you had to be c-close by, but when I…_ack_…didn't see you, I took it. I mean, I couldn't just _leave_ it there! What if the w-walkers could smell things like – _ngh_ – dogs or something? If they could then – _oh Jesus_ – they would have t-tracked you down and _killed_ you! Jesus Christ dude! What if there are u-undead _dogs_ out there? They'll find us no matter where we go! And they'll – _ngh_ – eat us like they do in the m-movies!"

"Tweek," Craig said calmly, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"_Ngh!_" Tweek whimpered, twitching nervously.

Craig smiled and kissed him, one hand moving up to cup his cheek. When they broke apart, Tweek was blushing furiously, but he had calmed down slightly. His gaze dropped to the floor and he held out the chullo. Craig took it and put it back on, grinning at the familiar feeling of the hat on his head. He then lifted Tweek's head so that their eyes met. Tweek's fingers instinctively reached for the strings of the chullo, wrapping themselves in them.

Craig kissed him again before nodding to the door. "The others are waiting," he said simply.

Tweek nodded and followed Craig outside.

~o~o~o~

Token, Butters, and Tweek had managed to get their hands on one of Token's cars before they left South Park. It was a sleek, black Mustang, and it was Token's most prized possession. It had been a gift on his sixteenth birthday, and, however strange as it may seem, the fact that Token still had it provided the teen with a small amount of comfort. The car, along with his friends, was all he had left of his former life. When he, Butters, and Tweek had pulled up to the abandoned house, Token had made sure to park the car behind it, where it was hidden from view. He didn't want to risk having someone stumble across it and steal it. Or having something try to take a bite out of it.

While Kenny, Stan, and Kyle were checking on Kenny's old pickup truck, Token carefully drove the Mustang down the hill and parked in front of his friends.

"I can fit one more person in the backseat," Token said, climbing out and walking over to where Kyle was standing.

Kyle nodded, "We have room for one more, so we'll take whoever doesn't ride with you."

"I figured I'd take Tweek, Craig, and Butters, if that's ok with you," Token replied, "Sorry to stick you with Clyde, but I figured Tweek would really appreciate it if Craig rode with us."

"Hey!" Clyde cried, "I heard that, asshole!"

Kyle laughed but nodded again, "I think you're right. And don't worry about it, I'm sure Kenny has some duct tape hidden somewhere in the truck."

"Actually," Kenny said, coming up behind Kyle, one arm thrown around Butters' shoulders, "Why doesn't Clyde ride with you guys? We'll take Butters."

"I-if that's ok with you," Butters added hastily, his cheeks flushed slightly.

Token smiled knowingly, "Fine by me. I'd actually enjoy catching up with Craig and Clyde."

"Hey, it's been ten minutes," Stan said, walking over, "Should we go back in and get Craig and Tweek?"

Kyle looked at his watch, "Nah. Give them another minute. I wanna look over the map one more time before we leave anyway."

The couple didn't keep them waiting long. By the time they came wandering out of the house, both cars were packed with whatever food they could take with them and whatever bags they had. Token slipped into the driver's seat of his Mustang, smiling slightly at the familiar feeling of his steering wheel beneath his hands. Clyde clambered in beside him, still complaining about Token "trying to get rid of him", while Tweek and Craig climbed into the backseat. Token strummed his fingers against the steering wheel, watching as Stan started up Kenny's truck and pulled out in front of him. With a quick glance at Clyde, Tweek, and Craig, Token threw the Mustang in drive and followed them, silently praying for a safe trip.

~o~o~o~

Butters was exhausted. Token had woken him up around 4:00 that morning to take over watch duty, and he hadn't slept since. The small blonde yawned and settled further into the backseat of Kenny's truck. Stan was driving, and sitting beside him was Kyle, who was still looking over the map carefully. Butters couldn't help but smile as the two friends chatted idly, as if the world wasn't collapsing around them.

An arm suddenly wrapped itself around Butters' shoulder and he squeaked as he was pulled into something firm and warm. He blinked nervously and looked up, flushing when Kenny's sapphire blue eyes locked with his.

"You can sleep you know," Kenny said, a soothing smile stretching across his handsome face, "We have a long trip ahead of us."

Butters nestled further into Kenny's hoodie, enjoying the feeling of Kenny's voice rumbling in his chest. Kenny began to idly run his fingers through Butters' light blonde hair.

"I'm glad you're safe," Kenny said, dropping his voice to nothing more than a mere whisper.

"I'm glad you're safe too," Butters admitted, frowning slightly.

While Butters was part of the group, he was closest to Kenny. In fact, it was the taller blonde who had brought him into their group of friends, disregarding any protests (mostly from Cartman) and making sure that Butters had his place in the gang. The bullying that Butters had suffered since elementary school had abruptly ended once Butters and Kenny became close friends. And while Kenny always denied it, Butters knew the blonde had something to do with it. Simply put, Kenny was his best friend. And Kenny had openly admitted more than once that Butters was his. Butters sighed and closed his eyes, comforted by the sound of Kenny's heartbeat and the warmth of his arms. Sleep quickly began to take him away, and Butters let it. He felt safe in Kenny's arms. When he was with the other blonde, he felt like nothing in the world could hurt him. With that final thought, Butters drifted into the blissful abyss of sleep.

~o~o~o~

They stopped in a small town in the eastern part of Iowa. After three days of camping out in the cars and trying desperately to navigate the back roads of Colorado and Nebraska, each and every one of the boys was ready for a break. Besides, they were running out of food, and the town had a supermarket conveniently located on the main road. The town was deserted, and looked as if it had been for at least a week. Kenny had – rather stupidly in Stan's opinion – honked the truck's horn a few times, just to see if the loud sound would draw anything out. When nothing came barreling at them from the shadows, they decided that the town was safe enough to at least stay the night.

They decided to just stay at the town's supermarket, as it had everything they needed: sleeping bags, food, and a bathroom. Stan, Craig, Token, and Kenny swept the store carefully while Kyle, Tweek, Clyde, and Butters watched the front doors and the street. Once every aisle, bathroom stall, and back room was checked, the boys immediately set about making themselves comfortable. Tweek, Butters, and Clyde disappeared and came back several minutes later, carrying eight sleeping bags while Kenny and Craig worked on barricading the automatic doors in the front of the store.

Stan found himself walking around with Kyle, taking note of every exit in the building. Stan thought it was slightly unnecessary, as the town was deserted, but Kyle argued that they needed to know how to get out in case of an emergency. The only other entrances besides the front automatic doors were the loading dock in the back and an emergency fire exit on the west side of the building. Stan couldn't help but be amused as Kyle jotted this down on the back of the map, but he didn't say anything.

About an hour after they had settled in, the boys decided to eat, each going off and grabbing whatever he felt like eating. Kenny's face was lit up like a child's in a candy shop as he ran from aisle to aisle, practically cheering about how much food there was and the fact that they could eat as much as they wanted. The sun had begun to set by the point they all sat down to eat, so they decided to turn off their lights and use the electric lanterns that Clyde had found near the sleeping bags. Just in case the bright store lights caught anyone's – or any_thing's_ – attention.

Stan ate quietly, sitting back and watching his friends with a small smile. Token and Clyde were bickering about something that sounded like it had to do with Token's car, Kenny was stuffing his face and talking to Butters – who did not seem even remotely disgusted by the other blonde's messy eating habits, Craig was trying to get Tweek to eat and drink something other than coffee, and Kyle was sitting quietly beside him, green eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched the other members of their group too.

"How far are we from Ashland?" Stan asked the redhead beside him.

"Well, with the amount of time it took us to get here, I'd say probably a week or so," Kyle replied, "It would've only taken us a few days if we were taking I-80 and the other main roads, but seeing as we're steering clear of those, it's probably going to take us more than twice as long. Unfortunately, I just don't know what we'll find on those roads and I'd rather steer clear of highly populated areas."

Stan nodded, and asked, "What kind of place do you think we're heading to?"

Kyle shrugged, "No idea. I've never been to Maine. Hopefully, whatever this place is, it'll be safe."

Stan suddenly smiled, "You know, dude, this wouldn't be half bad if it wasn't for the walkers."

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"What? I mean, we've always wanted to go on a long road trip. See the world outside of South Park. Just you, me, and a car. You remember?"

Kyle laughed, "Yeah. And we always joked about how we would end up in Vegas, bum some weed off of someone, and wander around losing all of our money to Vegas casinos."

"And when we weren't in Vegas, we'd stop off at random bars, get completely drunk off our asses and have some wild nights," Stan was laughing too now. "Just you, me, the car, and the money in our wallets. No schedule, no real plans, and all the time in the world to waste."

Kyle grinned and leaned over slightly, so that their shoulders brushed. "When this is over," he said, "We're doing that. We'll drop everything and just drive off to wherever the road takes us. Promise me."

Stan threw an arm around the redhead's shoulders. "I promise," he said sincerely.

Stan squeezed Kyle's shoulders. If – no, _when_ – this was over, he would do anything the redhead wanted.

As long as they both made it out alive, he would do anything.

As long as they both made it out alive.

He would tell his best friend that he was in love with him.

~o~o~o~

Kyle sighed and checked his watch again. The small numbers read 2:27. He still had another hour and a half before he could wake Token and Clyde to take over watch duty. Tweek sat next to him, wide hazel eyes staring into the darkness beyond the automatic doors in front of them. He was twitching more than usual – which was really saying something – and Kyle could tell that the blonde was incredibly uneasy about something.

"Tweek?" He finally asked, when Tweek began to tug at his hair nervously, "What's wrong?"

"I…I don't kn-know dude!" Tweek exclaimed, "I just…_ngh_…I just can't stop feeling like s-something's _wrong_!"

"There's nothing to worry about," Kyle said reassuringly, "There aren't any walkers here. And they have no reason to be here anyway. It's a ghost town. I bet we're the first people who've passed through in days."

"_Gah!_ I know," Tweek said, "B-but…something doesn't feel right!"

"You're just being paranoid," Kyle said, laughing slightly – because, really? What had Kyle been expecting? This was _Tweek Tweak_ for fuck's sake.

"_GAH!_ K-Kyle! I just saw something m-move!" Tweek shrieked, scooting back a few feet, eyes wide with terror.

"What are you talking about?" Kyle asked, squinting into the darkness, "There's nothing out there, Tweek."

"L-look! Over by the – _ngh_ – curb!"

Kyle stood up and walked over to the glass door, ignoring Tweek's frantic whimpering, and peering out. His heart stopped when he saw something move about five feet away from the entrance.

"Shit!" Kyle hissed, "Tweek, do you have anything with you?"

Tweek nodded and shakily help up a golf club. Kyle nodded to him before grabbing his lacrosse stick.

"Ok, Tweek," Kyle said, kneeling down in front of the blonde teen, "We need to take care of this."

"Wh…what?" Tweek yelped, "Are you _crazy_? What if we c-can't fight it off and it comes through and k-kills us and – _ngh_ – with us dead the others won't know and they'll g-get eaten alive and we'll all be d-dead! _Gah!_"

"Tweek," Kyle hissed, "Now is _not_ the time to freak out. You need to listen to me. There's only one out there. These things usually travel in groups, but this one is alone. Which means there aren't any more around here. If we take care of this one, we'll be safe."

Tweek shivered but nodded, gripping his golf club tightly, "O-ok."

Kyle quietly unlocked the front doors and slid them open just enough for him to squeeze through. He motioned for Tweek to follow. Tweek nodded numbly, grabbing the electric lantern they had been using. The light illuminated the pavement in front of the store.

"There!" Tweek whimpered, pointing at a dark heap at the curb.

Kyle frowned, walking closer. The thing was barely moving, and it was making sounds as if it was in pain. The redhead gasped when the light fell upon the broken, bloodied body of a man.

The man turned his face towards Kyle, lips parted in a cry of pain. "H-help m-me," he whimpered, reaching a hand towards Kyle, blood leaking down his face.

"Holy shit!" Kyle gasped, kneeling down beside him and turning him over gently. The man's entire torso was covered in blood from various gashes. There was also a deep wound on his forehead that was sluggishly oozing blood down his face.

"Tweek!" Kyle called, "Help me get him inside!"

Tweek grabbed the man's legs while Kyle grabbed his shoulders and the two teens carefully navigated him inside.

"What happened?" Kyle couldn't help but ask, pushing the man's shirt up so that he could see the wounds better.

"My f-friends and I w-were attacked on the – " he began coughing harshly, flecks of blood splattering his lips, "freeway. I b-barely got a-away."

"Ok," Kyle soothed him, "Ok, you're safe now. We'll patch you up." He turned to Tweek, "Go to the pharmacy and get me bandages and any kind of antibiotic cream you can find. Hurry!"

Tweek nodded and took off, sprinting towards the back corner of the store.

"What's your name?" Kyle asked, stripping off his jacket and pressing the material down on the wounds to try to stop the bleeding.

"S-Sam," the man chocked out.

"I'm Kyle," Kyle said, pressing harder, "You're gonna be ok, Sam."

Tweek came back only a minute or two later, carrying two armfuls of bandages and a large tube of Neosporin. He was also carrying a bottle of Advil.

"Here!" He gasped, pressing the items into Kyle's arms.

"Thanks Tweek," Kyle said, grabbing the tube of Neosporin. He carefully applied the ointment to the gashes, hoping that it would at least keep away infection until they found a more permanent solution. He then began wrapping Sam's torso, gently but making sure that the bandages were tight enough to aid in stopping the bleeding. Meanwhile, Tweek gave the man two pills and handed over his mug of coffee to help him wash them down. Sam was shaking slightly and he was sweating. His skin was hot to the touch – definitely not a good sign.

Kyle was about to suggest that they move him further inside when Tweek suddenly grabbed his arm tightly.

"Kyle! Look!" The blonde cried, pointing to the door.

Outside, the once-deserted street was suddenly alive with movement.

Kyle's eyes widened with horror. "They…they followed you here!" He gasped, staring down at Sam. He should have thought of that. The walkers were like wild animals. Even the faintest scent of blood would be enough to lead them to their next meal.

"What're we – _ngh!_ – gonna do?" Tweek asked, trembling.

"Go wake the others," Kyle said, "Get everyone out. I'll be right behind you."

"B-but Kyle – "

"_Go_ Tweek!"

Tweek nodded and scampered off, screaming, "WALKERS!" as he went.

"Sam, you're gonna have to stand," Kyle said, "Can you manage that?"

Sam nodded jerkily. Kyle put one arm across his back to support him and, very slowly, began to get him back to his feet. Once Sam was standing, the man threw an arm around the teenager's shoulders for support. Kyle grabbed his lacrosse stick with his free hand and began to lead Sam towards the back of the store. The best way to get out was through the loading dock in the back, and he knew that that was where his friends were heading.

The sound of breaking glass nearly stopped Kyle's heart. The redhead risked a glance over his shoulder and suddenly wished he hadn't. There were about ten walkers gathered outside. One had managed to break a portion of the front doors. The opening was still too small for the monsters to get through, but Kyle knew that he had to get away, _fast_. Sam was barely conscious by now, leaning most of his weight against Kyle, who struggled to keep the man's larger frame upright.

There was snarling behind him and more glass shattered at the hands of the walkers. Sam's head dropped and he became dead weight against Kyle's shoulder.

"Sam!" Kyle shouted, shaking the man. He was out cold. "Fuck!" Kyle screamed in frustration, trying desperately to haul the taller and much heavier man forward.

He was about thirty feet from the front doors when the walkers managed to break through. The came at him like hungry wolves closing in on their prey. The breath was knocked out of Kyle when something heavy collided with his back, sending him crashing to the floor. He let go of Sam and gripped his lacrosse stick tightly, turning over onto his back quickly and smashing the metal pole into the face of the walker that had tackled him. He then scrambled clumsily to his feet, breath coming in short gasps as he looked into the empty eyes of his demise.

They pounced.

Kyle screamed

~o~o~o~

Stan woke to the sound of screaming. Rubbing his eyes groggily, he looked around for the source. Tweek was shaking Craig, screaming something about walkers.

"Where are they?" Kenny asked, blue eyes wide as he quickly roused Butters.

"_Gah!_ A-at the front doors!" Tweek cried.

"Shit!" Craig yelled.

"The loading dock!" Token shouted, pointing to the back, "Let's go!"

"Where's Kyle?" Stan asked Tweek.

"He's coming!" Tweek said, "We gotta go!"

"But – "

"He's _coming_ Stan," Kenny said, "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

Stan tried to protest but Kenny grabbed him and began forcefully pulling him towards the back of the store. They managed to get the loading dock doors open in a matter of seconds and quickly slipped outside into the snowy night.

"Start the cars!" Clyde said.

Token and Kenny both nodded before running towards their vehicles. They had agreed to park behind the store, in case of emergency. Stan was glad Kyle had thought of that. Fear churned in Stan's stomach as he looked back at the doors. Kyle was still inside.

"Where is he, Tweek?" Stan shouted, glaring at the blonde.

"H-he said he'd be right – _ngh_ – behind me! He was helping Sam," Tweek explained nervously.

"Sam?" Token asked.

"He showed up a-at the front doors," Tweek said, "He was – _ngh_ – really hurt!"

A scream came from the inside, making the blood in Stan's veins freeze like ice. That was Kyle's voice.

"KYLE!" Stan shouted, starting to run back to the doors. A firm grip on his shoulder stopped him. He whipped around and glared at Kenny. "Let me _go_, Kenny!"

"Dude, going back in there is suicide!" Kenny said.

"_Kyle's_ in there!" Stan screamed, "I can't just sit here and do _nothing_!"

"Stan, it's too risky!"

"He could _die_ in there!"

"Then what's the point of losing _both_ of you?" Kenny shouted, sapphire eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

Stan stared at his friend in shock. Tears collected in his own eyes, and he didn't even try to stop them from falling. The fact that Kyle could die was incomprehensible. Who was Stan without Kyle?

Nobody.

Nothing.

"Kyle!" Butters cried, staring at a point beyond Stan's shoulder.

Stan turned around slowly, eyes widening at what he saw. The redhead was stumbling towards them, limping heavily and splattered with blood. His lacrosse stick was held limply in his hand, dragging along the snow beneath him, leaving splotches of blood.

"Kyle," Stan whispered.

The redhead stopped in front of him, wincing as he tried to smile.

"S-Sorry guys," he said, "Got…a little…caught up."

There was blood leaking steadily from a gash in Kyle's arm and his face was covered in scratches but, other than that, the blood on his body didn't seem to be his own.

"Shit, dude! Are you ok?" Kenny asked, grabbing his friend's arm and inspecting the wound gently.

"Y…Yeah," Kyle said, "Just a bit…banged up. I'm fine. Sam didn't make it though…"

"I'm sorry Kyle," Tweek said sadly.

The redhead nodded, looking down at his feet.

Stan could drown in the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. He was terrified, overjoyed, and relieved. However, beneath that, anger started to burn.

"Are you_ crazy_?" Stan hissed.

Kyle looked up quickly, eyes flashing with hurt. "Wh…what?"

"You were almost _killed!_" Stan yelled, "You almost got yourself killed for who? A _stranger_?"

Kyle frowned, "Stan…I couldn't just let him die."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stan snarled, "Tweek said he was hurt anyway! You put _all_ of our lives in danger by taking him in! What were you trying to do, huh? Act like a hero? Fuck that, Kyle!"

Kyle's eyes shimmered, but he managed to glare at his best friend and snap back angrily, "Wow Stan. I didn't know you were such a heartless bastard. No, I didn't know Sam. But what kind of person would I be if I just left him to die?"

"Whatever Kyle," Stan snapped, "Just remember that you endangered _every one of us_ tonight."

"Fuck you, Stan!"

Stan knew he was being irrational. Hell, he was being downright cruel. He was pretty sure not even Craig would say such hurtful things to his friends. But he was scared. No, scratch that, he was fucking _terrified_. He had almost lost Kyle. He had almost _lost Kyle_. Over a stranger that Stan had never met. That was something that Stan couldn't cope with. He wanted nothing more to grab the redhead and hug him and never let him go, but he was too terrified to do anything like that. The fear was turning into anger – anger at himself for not going back and helping him, anger at Tweek for leaving him to fend for himself, anger at this _Sam_ person who put Kyle in danger, and anger at Kyle for being so nonchalant about the fact that Stan had almost lost the person he loved more than anything in the world.

Kyle glared at him furiously before walking past him, making sure to brush shoulders.

"I'm riding with you," the redhead said to Token, who merely nodded, not taking his eyes off of Stan.

Tweek and Craig followed Kyle to Token's car, both glancing over at Stan before finally climbing inside the Mustang. Kyle didn't look back once. Clyde nodded to Token and walked over to where Kenny and Butters were standing.

Stan remained where he was, staring blankly at the back of the store.

"Stan?" Kenny finally asked, "Come on, dude. It's time to get going."

Stan nodded numbly, following the blonde to his truck. He settled into the front seat while Clyde and Butters climbed into the back. Kenny started the truck, then, with a nod to Token, started off down the road.

Stan stared out of the passenger door window, thoughts drifting to images of emerald green eyes and fiery red hair. A single tear ran down his face.

'_I've ruined everything_.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Well, there you go! I hope it was worth the wait! Yes, I know Stan was acting quite a bit OOC at the end of this chapter, but it's just because he was so scared. Trust me when I say, everything will be resolved eventually ;) Can't have a story without drama!

Please review! Reviews are my life blood! xD

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Oh gosh guys, I am SO sorry that this chapter took so long! With school starting and with deadlines to meet, I was completely buried in work :( Hopefully now that school has started, I can get into a writing routine. I'm hoping to get updates out on Saturdays, but I can't really make too many promises due to the fact that I won't really be able to write if I have too much homework. I promise to try and post a new chapter every week though! You all may just have to be a bit patient with me :(

I want to thank SCBunnyGo, Raining Skittles, S.E. Mellark, Seneschal, Spottedleaf900, Vanguard Bunny, WxTxR, Person, xXCookieDoughXx, Amberr-chan, and tiffanybane for reviewing! You guys are amazing, I love you all SO much!

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 6<em>

"You weren't bitten, right?" Kenny asked, carefully prodding Kyle's wound.

Kyle hissed as more blood began to trickle out of the gash. "No," he said, gritting his teeth, "I cut myself on the metal corner of one of the shelves."

"Good," Kenny said, "Wouldn't want you going all rabid on my ass."

Kyle didn't say anything, opting instead to just watch Kenny work quietly. The group had stopped at the first house they came across because Kyle's arm was still bleeding, albeit not as profusely as before. Kenny had volunteered to patch Kyle up, knowing that the redhead needed time away from everyone to fume over his argument with Stan. The blonde's stomach dropped when he took in the sight of his friend. He was paler than usual from the blood loss, dark purple bruises standing out sharply against his skin. Small scratches covered his face and arms, but the worst injury was the six-inch long gash that ran along the length of his forearm.

"So, you really took out _ten_ walkers by yourself?" Kenny asked, wrapping the wound with a bandage that he had found in one of the house's bathrooms. "That's pretty impressive!" He knew by the dark look in Kyle's eyes that he was probably mentally kicking Stan's ass, and he was trying to get the redhead's mind off of the incident in the best way he knew how.

When Kyle simply shrugged, Kenny knew that there was no avoiding the issue.

"Look, Kyle," he started, "I know Stan was an absolute dick, but he was scared. Hell, we all were. We thought you were gonna die. And you gotta admit, risking your life for a stranger is pretty crazy. If Stan hadn't gotten to you first, I would've probably punched you."

"Why can't you guys just understand?" Kyle snapped angrily, green eyes blazing, "I couldn't just _leave_ him there! Was it stupid? Yes! But how could I live with myself knowing that I left an innocent man to die?"

"Hey, hey," Kenny said, holding up his hands, "You didn't let me finish. I never said I didn't understand why you did it. It was stupid, no doubt about that, but if any of us had been in your shoes, I'm sure we would have done the same thing. Except for Craig. He'd probably just run off cursing and flipping the guy off as he went."

When Kyle didn't even smile, Kenny sighed in defeat.

"I just thought that, of all people, Stan would understand," Kyle muttered angrily. "You remember all that crazy shit we did as kids to save _animals_?"

Kenny couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"And he had _no_ right to guilt trip me about what happened!" Kyle continued, hands curling into fists, "I sent Tweek to get you guys out of the store. The only people who were in danger were _me and Sam_. This had _nothing_ to do with you guys and _your_ safety."

Kenny opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. It was better to stay quiet and let the redhead rant. Kyle really hadn't changed since they were kinds. On the upside, he was smart, logical, and had a strong sense of right and wrong. On the downside, however, his temper was a fiery as ever. There was no point in trying to calm him down when he was like this. Kenny made sure that his blue eyes were locked with Kyle's, and then let his mind drift away. Kyle wasn't going to listen if he tried to offer any kind of advice, so there was really no point in paying attention.

His thoughts wandered to his family, his other classmates, and then finally settled on a certain blonde teenager. Relieved was nowhere near a strong enough word to describe how Kenny felt when they found Butters. Overjoyed, eternally grateful, ecstatic – those were better, but still didn't quite convey the feeling. All Kenny knew was that he had never felt anything like that in his entire life. It was confusing. Sure, Butters was his best friend, but he had never felt something so strongly about any of his other friends. Maybe it was his protective instincts? Everyone at school knew that messing with Butters would ultimately end with them getting the shit kicked out of them by a very angry Kenny McCormick.

'_That must be it,'_ Kenny thought, '_I'm really protective of him, so it's only natural that I would be so relieved to see him safe_.'

Kyle's voice continued to drone in the background, sometimes accompanied by frantic hand movements. Kenny sighed, finding it hard to concentrate on his thoughts now that the redhead had raised his voice. He needed to find a way to smooth over Kyle's argument with Stan before it escalated into something messy. Well, messier than it already was. Now was simply not the time to be ripping each other's throats out. He snapped back to reality when he realized that Kyle wasn't talking anymore. The redhead was staring at his hands, which were resting limply against his legs.

"You've gotta be exhausted," Kenny finally said, breaking the silence. "I don't think anyone will mind if we spend the night here. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll get you up in the morning. We need to stock up on food anyway since none of us thought to grab anything when we left. And I don't know about you, but I don't wanna deal with Clyde's whining."

Kyle nodded. Kenny sighed mentally when his attempt at humor failed once again. He patted Kyle on the shoulder and stood , walking towards the door. Before he left the room, he heard a soft, "Thanks, Kenny."

Kenny turned back to his friend and smiled reassuringly, "Anytime."

~o~o~o~

Stan's head shot up when Kenny emerged from the bedroom. The blonde looked tired, but that was to be expected.

"How is he?" Stan asked, keeping his voice low.

"Oh, he's fine," Kenny said, "He's ready to bite your head off though."

Stan sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "I figured as much," he muttered.

"Seriously dude, I get being pissed that he did something stupid, but how exactly did snapping at him help?"

Stan shook his head slowly. "I was scared," he mumbled.

"Well, duh! But dude, you need to smooth this whole thing out as soon as possible. Things aren't exactly great right now, and the last thing we need is any kind of tension."

"I know, Kenny," Stan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just food for thought," Kenny said, waving a hand and leaving the room, probably in search of food.

Stan sighed and stretched out on the couch he had been sitting on. The wooden door that led to the bedroom where Kyle was sleeping glared at him from across the room. Closing his eyes in defeat, Stan turned so that his back was facing it. The soft voices of his friends in the next room drifted through the walls. While it was comforting, and in any normal situation it would have lulled him to sleep, Stan's thoughts kept him awake. He curled further into the couch, knowing that there would be little sleep for him that night.

~o~o~o~

"Dude, it's been _way_ too long since I last had a taco," Clyde complained, poking the sandwich Token had made for him.

"Well, if you don't want to eat that, I'm sure I can find somebody else in the house who would be willing to take it off your hands," Token said, folding his arms across his chest.

Clyde stuck his tongue out, but obediently took a small bite, much to Token's amusement.

"You know…I kinda feel like we're in a horror movie," Clyde commented as he chewed.

"Dude, don't even start," Token warned, frowning in disgust as Clyde continued talking with his mouth full.

"Seriously! I feel like I'm in 28 Days Later or I Am Legend – "

"Dude!" Token tried to interrupt.

"How about Dawn of the Dead? Or Resident Evil?

"Clyde!" Token punched him on the shoulder.

"What?" Clyde whined, rubbing his shoulder, "It's true!"

"If you're trying to be funny, quit it!" Token groaned in exasperation.

"But-"

"No."

"Token-"

"No!"

"What has your panties in a knot?"

Token sighed, "I just don't think we should be making light of this situation. A lot of people have died, Clyde. Including people we knew."

Clyde remained silent for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich while Token just rubbed his temples in soothing circles.

"But you've gotta admit," Clyde said slowly, glancing up at his friend, "While you're bashing their heads in, you're imagining that Alice chick fighting right beside you."

"I hate you," Token said bluntly.

"You love me."

"You're not my type."

"Ew! Not in that way dude!"

Token laughed at the horrified look on his brunette friend's face. "Don't deny it," he teased.

"Dude! Gross!"

Token laughed harder, shoving Clyde playfully and marveling at how good it felt to be joking around again.

"Don't touch me, you rapist!"

"Eat your sandwich, Clyde."

~o~o~o~

Stan woke with a start. Something was wrong. He sat up quickly, blue eyes scanning the room around him. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut that something terrible either had happened, or was about to. A noise caught his attention. He froze, listening carefully. Something was moving around in the bedroom where Kyle was sleeping. Stan relaxed slightly, Kyle must be up. There was something off about the noise, however, that Stan couldn't quite place. Deciding that, argument or not, he had the right to at least check on his friend, Stan stood up and made his way over to the bedroom. When he opened the door, however, Kyle was nowhere in sight.

"Kyle?" Stan asked, stepping further into the room.

Something heavy collided with his back, throwing him to the floor. Cursing, Stan quickly rolled over and found himself face to face with Kyle. But the second Stan met his friend's eyes, he knew that something was terribly wrong. Kyle's eyes were unfocused, with a wild glint that Stan had only seen in the eyes of the walkers. His skin was deathly white and his face was twisted into a feral snarl.

"K-Kyle?" Stan stammered.

The redhead suddenly lunged forward, teeth aimed for the exposed skin of his neck.

"FUCK!" Stan screamed, forcefully throwing the smaller teen off. He stood shakily, backing away instinctively.

Kyle scrambled unsteadily to his feet, growling like a wild animal.

Stan's heart was hammering painfully against his ribs. Kenny had said Kyle hadn't been bitten!

"Kyle? Come on, dude," Stan said carefully, "What's going on?"

Kyle said nothing, opting instead to advance toward the noirette slowly, eyes gleaming hungrily.

"Kyle," Stan said again, taking another step back.

Kyle pounced, hands stretching out towards the other boy. Stan ducked to one side, barely managing to avoid him. Kyle turned, snarling angrily before lunging forward again. Stan threw himself across the bed, putting the mattress between them. He backed up until his shoulders hit the wall behind him as Kyle followed him. Terrified, Stan groped around the bedside table. A tiny thrill of triumph ran through his body when his hand closed around something heavy. Without even pausing to think about what he was doing, Stan brought the object down on Kyle's head.

Blood spurted from the wound and the redhead dropped like a rock. For several moments, the noirette panted heavily, trying desperately to bring his breathing back under control. He stood completely still, eyes glazed and unfocused and small beads of sweat running down his face. The sight of his friend's lifeless body sprawled at his feet, however, snapped Stan out of his trance. The lamp that he had grabbed from the bedside table fell to the floor with a loud crash. Stan dropped to his knees, eyes wide with horror as his hands shakily reached out to his friend.

Kyle was completely limp when Stan pulled him into his arms. He cradled the redhead against his chest, cupping his friend's face with one hand.

"K-Kyle?" Stan stammered, brushing the redhead's bangs away from his face and wincing when the action smeared more blood across his pale skin. "Oh God…no…NO!"

Stan shook Kyle, lightly at first, then with more ferocity. "Wake up! Kyle! Oh God, please wake up! KYLE!"

Tears burned in Stan's eyes when Kyle's head just lolled limply against his chest. Stan stared down at the lifeless body in his arms, tears beginning to leak steadily down his cheeks.

"Don't do this," Stan pleaded, voice think with emotion as he tried to keep from falling apart, "Don't do this to me. You can't….you c-can't do this to me. I need you. Please….p-please, Kyle. Wake up. P-Please…"

Stan's pleas trailed off as his body was wracked with sobs. He pulled the body closer, crushing it against his chest as he wept into Kyle's hair. It was becoming incredibly hard to breathe, and Stan began to think that he would die from the sheer pain that was ripping apart his heart and soul.

"Please Kyle…"

"Wake up…."

"I need you…"

"_I love you_…"

"Wake up…"

Stan woke up screaming. Tears were flowing down his cheeks and his entire body was trembling. His heart was beating so furiously that Stan was sure that everyone in the house could hear it. He brought one unsteady hand to his face, pushing his bangs back from his sweaty forehead.

'_It was…just a dream…'_ Stan thought, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control his erratic breathing.

Stan had had nightmares before. Hell, he'd had his fair share of bad dreams since the world plunged into chaos. But never before had a dream shaken him this much. It had been so vivid…he could still feel Kyle's limp, bloodied body in his arms. He could still hear the sickening crack of the lamp crashing down on his friend's head. He could still see those eyes, unfocused and rabid, glaring hungrily at him.

"Oh, you're awake," A voice came from behind him, making Stan flinch violently.

Kenny stepped into his line of sight, blue eyes sparkling curiously. "You ok?" The blonde asked, tipping his head to one side, "You look like shit."

"I'm fine," Stan lied, "Just…a bad dream, is all."

Kenny smiled sympathetically, "I'm not surprised. But, anyway, Token, Craig, and I are loading up the cars. We should be ready to leave any minute now. Are you packed?"

Stan nodded.

"Alright, we'll wait for you outside," Kenny said, patting Stan on the shoulder as he left.

Stan took another minute to compose himself before following him.

~o~o~o~

They stopped for gas seven hours later at a Shell station about eighty miles from the state border. Token had thankfully had the same idea as Kenny, and had been carrying several containers of gas, but between Kenny's old Ford and Token's Mustang, they had run out quickly. While Kenny and Token were taking care of the gas, the others went through the food that they had taken from the house. When Kenny and Token finished getting gas, being sure to refill their extra gas containers, they joined the rest of the group.

They stayed at the Shell station for a little over an hour – eating and stretching their legs – before piling into the cars and heading off once again.

Kenny pulled over again a few hours later as they were passing through a small town that consisted of nothing more than a local grocery store, a church, several other miscellaneous buildings, and a handful of houses. When questioned by the others, Kenny merely shrugged and said, "We need to pick up some more bandages for Kyle's arm."

Kyle offered to search the grocery store for any kind of medical supplies alone, arguing that it would probably be the quickest way to do things. The others agreed, seeing as the town was deserted. The lack of walkers unnerved Stan. In every zombie movie he had ever seen, there seemed to be monsters crawling around everywhere! He watched Kyle walk towards the store with a great amount of apprehension. What if something happened to him?

"Kyle! Wait!" Stan called, taking a few steps toward him.

"What?" Kyle asked, turning around and glaring at him.

"Let me come with you," Stan implored him, "Or, if not me, someone else. You don't know what could be in there."

Kyle's gaze darkened, "What? You think I can't look after myself?"

"What? No! I mean, that's not what I meant," Stan replied hurriedly, "It's just…going in alone isn't a good idea!"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!" Kyle snapped, "Leave me alone, Stan."

"Yeah, we saw how well that worked out last time," the words were out before Stan's mind even registered that he was saying them.

Kyle's face flushed angrily, "Fuck you!" He then turned and continued walking, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. That definitely didn't go over as well as he had hoped.

"Nice job dude," Kenny commented, staring after their redhead friend.

"Shut up, Kenny."

"Seriously, try controlling whatever you decide to blurt out," Kenny continued.

"I'm going to punch you."

"Just giving some advice. You know Kyle. Keep saying stuff like that and he'll bash your head in."

"Duly noted."

~o~o~o~

It took them another five days to reach the coordinates that they had received from the radio broadcast. Kenny threw his truck in park and nodded to Stan, Butters, and Clyde before climbing out. They were standing outside of an old, rather large steel mill.

"Woah!" Clyde exclaimed, staring up at the immense building, "It's huge!"

Token chuckled at the brunette before looking over at Kyle, "This is the right place?"

The redhead nodded, map clenched tightly in both hands, "45 north, -69 west. Just like the broadcast said."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Kenny asked, beginning to walk towards the entrance. One by one, the others followed suit. Except for Tweek – who had paled considerably when the towering structure came into view – and Craig – who was trying to convince his paranoid boyfriend that the building was not going to eat him.

"Should we…knock…or something?" Butters asked, staring up at the doors.

"Might as well," Kenny said, stepping forward and pounding on the doors with his knuckles.

They waited for a few minutes before Stan sighed and asked, "Well…now what?"

"Are the doors unlocked?" Craig asked, coming up behind the group, a very reluctant Tweek clinging to his jacket.

"I don't know," Kenny said, pushing against them. They swung open easily, much to everyone's surprise.

"Well then," Craig said, stepping inside, "Let's go."

Tweek whimpered as he was pulled along, but he did not openly protest.

The first thing Kenny noticed about the steel mill upon entering it was that it was cold. Freezing actually. Mumbling under his breath, the blonde shoved his hands in the stomach pocket of his orange hoodie. He had never been inside a steel mill before, and while Kyle seemed to understand the layout – the bastard was actually pointing things out to Token! – and what all the pipes and assembly lines were for, their functions were lost on Kenny. All he knew was that none of the machines around him made any sense and that it was incredibly cold.

"Where is everybody?" Stan asked, looking around with wide blue eyes.

"Probably somewhere more secure," Token suggested.

"Oh Jesus, guys!" Tweek whimpered, "W-What if something – _ngh_ – happened?"

"Tweek, I'm sure Token's right," Craig said, ruffling the blonde's hair, "Everyone is probably hiding out in a safe room."

"It's kinda funny though," Kyle said, "You'd think that they'd have at least _someone_ watching the front doors."

"Maybe it's dinner time," Kenny suggested.

"Always thinking with your stomach," Stan remarked.

"Hey, I'm a growing boy!" Kenny protested, grinning when he saw Stan withhold a laugh.

"_GAH!_ What was that?" Tweek screamed suddenly, twitching furiously and staring into the darkness ahead of them.

"Tweek, what are you - ?" Token began before Tweek cut him off with a frantic yelp.

"_SHHH!_ _Listen_," Tweek whispered, hazel eyes looking as if they were about to pop out of his skull.

The group stopped and obeyed. Kenny closed his eyes and strained his ears, knowing that he would be able to hear better without any visual distractions.

'_What the hell is Tweek freaking out about?'_ Kenny asked himself, when all he heard was the quiet breathing of his friends, _'There's nothing – wait!'_ Kenny's eyes snapped open, _'What was that?'_

He turned to Stan, who was standing beside him. From the look in his friend's eyes, Kenny knew that he had heard it too.

There was something coming towards them.

"G-Guys," Tweek whimpered, "Let's go…_now_."

"What if it's the guy from the broadcast?" Clyde asked.

The sound intensified as whatever-it-was came closer. Kenny's heart began racing when he realized that there were more than one set of footsteps.

"Guys, I agree with Tweek," Kenny said quietly, "Something isn't right."

But when Kenny turned around, his heart plummeted at what he saw.

"WALKERS!" Tweek screamed as the figures broke through the darkness, gruesome faces looking even more ghastly in the dim lighting.

"Behind us too!" Kenny alerted his friends, taking a step backwards.

This was bad. Kenny felt sweat break out on his forehead. None of them had bothered to grab their weapons, figuring that the steel mill would be a safe place where they would find other survivors. It was a mistake that looked like it would cost their lives.

They were surrounded now, and when Kenny looked up, he could see more of the nightmarish creatures crawling along the pipes, leering down at them hungrily.

Kenny flinched when he felt something touch his back, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw that it was just Stan. Kyle, Token, and Butters were huddled together to Kenny's right while Clyde, Tweek, and Craig remained close to one another on Kenny's left.

Kenny reached for Butters' hand, grasping it firmly in his. The smaller teen's baby blue eyes looked up at him, gleaming with terror.

'_I guess this is it_' Kenny thought, trying to smile at the other blonde and failing miserably.

A lone tear ran down Butters' cheek and Kenny felt his small hand squeeze back.

The walkers lunged forward and screams were heard throughout the building.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Well, there you have it! Hope it was worth the wait! Sorry for another evil cliffie xD Hopefully I won't keep you guys waiting as long as last time!

Please review!

Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Oh God guys, I'm SO SO SO SO SO SORRY that this chapter took so freaking long! D: I was really sick a couple of weeks ago, so I had to miss a week of school (and if anyone here knows about the IB program, you know that missing that much work is pretty much academic suicide). Then, when I FINALLY caught up, I broke my leg playing soccer and had to miss ANOTHER week of school. So I was really preoccupied with getting everything done by the end of the first marking period (which was Friday, thank God!). But, now that grades are all done, I can actually focus on writing again :D

A **HUGE** thank you to AllieHasStyle, Rabbitchews, Amberr-chan, Spottedleaf900, Style'USUK, Vanguard Bunny, Seneschal, Raining Skittles, Hubajoob, and WxTxR for reviewing! I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to reply to your reviews individually :(

And guess what? It's Halloween :D And I think you all deserve a treat!

Pairings: Style, Creek, Gregstophe, and Bunny.

Warnings: Character death (major and minor), blood, violence, gore, cursing, slash

Full Summary: It was just another normal day in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. That is, until the screams started. Now, Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, along with a group of their classmates, must survive in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by the walking dead. Friendships will be tested, friends and family will be lost, and, somehow, in a world gone mad, love will be found.

Disclaimer: I am not Trey Parker or Matt Stone, nor am I Dylan Thomas. Therefore, I do not own South Park or the poem _And Death Shall Have No Dominion_. Please do not sue me. I am broke...like Kenny :(

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 7<em>

Craig felt the walker's cheekbone snap under his fist with a satisfying crunch. Adrenaline, brought on by sheer terror, pumped through his veins, allowing him to move with quick, precise movements. Though his fists were nowhere near as effective as the axe he had found in Telluride, they were at least enough to keep the walkers at bay. Blood dripped from his knuckles and sweat collected on his forehead, some of the small beads of moisture dripping down into his eyes. The darkness of the steel mill made it hard to see and, on more than one occasion, Craig had to strain his eyes to make sure it was not one of his friends he was attacking.

Somebody screamed. The grotesque face of a walker broke through the darkness in front of him. There was another loud crack as Craig once again made good use of his fists. Another one took its place, bloodied teeth bared like a wild animal. There were too many to fight.

Craig cried out when he was suddenly thrown forward. He hit the ground hard, sending dull waves of pain down his forearms and knees. But that was nothing compared to the sheer horror that nearly stopped his heart in his chest. Tweek had been behind him. If a walker had managed to break through…

Craig's terrifying thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gunshots.

"GET DOWN!" A voice shouted over the chaos, "EVERYBODY, GET DOWN!"

Craig threw his arms over his head and pressed his face into the cold, cement floor. The sound of gunshots roared through his ears, accompanied by muffled shouts and some more screaming. Something heavy landed beside him. One blue-grey eye opened, and Craig's entire body stiffened when he found himself staring into the empty eyes of a dead walker. There was a bullet hole in the middle of its forehead, and a thick, black substance was oozing out onto its face.

Craig cursed furiously under his breath, but fought the urge to scramble away from the body. His eyes widened as he watched several more bodies slump bonelessly to the floor around him. A figure ran by him, a shotgun – or it _looked_ like a shotgun, he wasn't a gun expert, dammit! – clutched tightly in his hands. Craig watched with amazement as the person took down the walkers with nearly perfect aim as he ran. There was more muffled shouting behind him, in a language that Craig definitely did not recognize, before another person appeared. This one, to Craig's immense surprise, was wielding a large shovel that he was using to decapitate the monsters in his path.

"What the actual _fuck_?" Craig asked himself, staring as the duo mowed down walkers faster than he could blink.

The first figure stopped, and Craig could barely make out a head of blonde hair as he turned around. "Everybody behind me, head for the front doors!" He shouted, his voice tinged with a slight English accent.

Craig scrambled to his feet and stared after the two figures before following the blonde's instructions. Ahead of him, he could make out Kenny's orange hoodie, Butter's small frame, and, to Craig's enormous relief, Tweek's head of wild blonde hair. He sprinted after them, eyes focused solely on Tweek.

The sky outside was painted with pink, orange, and red. The sun was well on its way down. But, even though the sky looked absolutely beautiful, Craig though it paled greatly in comparison to the sight of Tweek standing right in front of him – shaken and terrified, but _safe_. Craig grabbed him and pulled him close, burying his face in his blonde hair. Tweek's hands clutched at the strings of Craig's chullo and he moved closer, hiding his face in Craig's chest. Craig glanced over their other friends briefly, finding them in a similar position, Kenny's hand running soothingly through Butters' hair.

Tweek was the one who broke the embrace after a few minutes, his wide hazel eyes shifting to the front doors of the steel mill. Craig followed his gaze, feeling his stomach churn uneasily. Yes, Craig Tucker was an asshole. But that didn't mean he didn't care about his friends.

About a minute later, Stan, Kyle, and Token came bursting out of the doors. They were breathing heavily, eyes wide with terror, but they seemed unscathed.

"Where's Clyde?" Craig asked, immediately noticing the absence of the brunette.

Token's dark eyes widened even further, "We thought he was with you guys."

"Fuck!" Kenny hissed.

"The people who s-saved us, they'll g-get him out, r-right?" Butters asked, stuttering fearfully. Kenny laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They all turned to face the doors, waiting with baited breath for the appearance of their friend. Inside, Craig could still hear gunshots and some distant shouting. The sounds were getting closer.

The doors were flung open with a loud bang. Two figures stumbled into the open. One was a teen who looked to be about Craig's age with shaggy brown hair. He was clutching a bloodied shovel in one hand and his other arm, much to Craig's relief, was wrapped around Clyde's waist. Clyde was limping slightly, but aside from the tear in his jeans, he looked unhurt. The blonde teen that Craig had seen earlier was behind them, his back turned. Craig watched as the blonde fired into the darkness of the steel mill, aiming for something that Craig couldn't see.

"Wat are you beetches standeeng zere for?" The brunette supporting Clyde snapped, a French accent coloring his voice, "Get to your cars! I will take ze boy wiz me."

Nobody protested as a walker stumbled through the doors, teeth bared hungrily. Craig, Tweek, Kyle, and Token sprinted for Token's Mustang while Kenny, Stan, and Butters made their way to Kenny's truck. Craig watched as the brunette helped Clyde into a black Jeep parked about thirty yards away. The Frenchman then threw himself into the driver's seat and started the car. The Jeep's engine roared as the brunette gunned it, heading for his blonde companion who was still keeping the walkers at bay with his gun. He pulled around in front of the blonde, crashing into a handful of the walkers which were thrown into the air by the force of the impact. The Jeep screeched to a halt and the passenger-side door was thrown open. The blonde climbed in with ease and slammed the door shut behind him. The brunette then pulled the car around and stepped on the gas. Token floored it and the Mustang jumped forward with a jolt. Kenny followed, sliding in behind them. Craig couldn't help but glance back at the steel mill. Some of the walkers were chasing after them, but they were no match for the speed of the cars and were quickly left behind.

Craig exchanged a look with Kyle and Tweek before sighing and pulling his chullo off so that he could run a hand through his hair.

"Dude…" He breathed, "The _fuck_?"

~o~o~o~

They drove for about thirty minutes before the Jeep finally came to a stop. Stan breathed a sigh of relief. The two teens had led them off the road and deep into a forest. While the Jeep had handled the terrain well enough, Token's Mustang and Kenny's truck had had trouble keeping up as the snow and occasional patches of ice made it incredibly hard to keep the cars under control. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Kenny flew out of the truck and dropped to his knees, screaming something about land before leaning down and kissing the snow beneath him. Butters stood next to him, giggling at the blonde's antics. Stan just rolled his eyes and climbed out. Ahead of them, the two teens that had saved them were helping Clyde out of their Jeep. The brunette seemed fine, aside from a small rip in his jeans. The blonde said something to his friend before leaving the two brunettes and walking over towards Stan. Kyle, Token, Tweek, and Craig had joined the other three members of their group.

He looked to be about Stan's age. Blonde hair, tangled and messy from the day's events, framed his attractive face. He tucked a few stray strands behind one ear, as if out of habit, a disgruntled look crossing his features. He was pale, almost as pale as Tweek, and while he was slender with slightly feminine features, Stan could see lean muscle moving beneath his orange jacket. His slate-blue eyes were bright with intelligence and when they locked with Stan's own, he couldn't help but feel like he was being critically analyzed.

"What on earth were you all doing at the steel mill?" The blonde asked, bypassing introductions.

"That was where the coordinates led us," Stan said.

The blonde folded his arms over his chest, "Haven't you bothered to check your radio?"

Stan could only stare dumbly at him. When he received no answer, the blonde sighed, unfolded his arms, and reached down to his belt. He unclipped a small radio that Stan had not noticed before and turned it on with a soft click. The radio crackled for a few seconds before the blonde's voice started coming from the speakers.

_"Anybody out there who is listening: if you received out last emergency broadcast, heed this warning. The steel mill at the coordinates 45N, -69W has been overrun. I repeat, the steel mill at the coordinates 45N, -60W has been overrun. We have set up camp 23 miles south of the previous coordinates. Our campsite rests on the northern shore of the lake that can be found in this area. If anyone out there is still looking for a place to go, come find us."_

The radio crackled again before the message began to repeat itself. The blonde turned it off with another small click.

"Wait…if the steel mill was overrun, why did you guys go back?" Kyle asked.

"We left some ammunition in one of the back rooms," the blonde replied.

"Well thank God for that," Token breathed.

"Yes, now, shall I take you to your friend?"

"Wait," Kyle called as the teen turned around, "Who should we be thanking?"

The blonde turned and smiled slightly, a crack in the stern, commanding mask. "Gregory," he said simply, before turning back around and leading them further into the trees.

~o~o~o~

After about ten minutes of walking, the trees began to thin out until, finally, the group emerged from the forest into a small clearing. The space was only about the size of half of a football field and circular in shape. There was a small tent set up against the trees on the left side, sagging slightly under the weight of several inches of snow. In the middle of the clearing was a small fire pit that was barely visible beneath the thick white sheet of snow that covered the ground. A few feet to the right of the fire pit was a table. Behind the table was another tent, a larger one than the first.

"Welcome to our camp," Gregory said, waving an arm in front of him.

Clyde was sitting on the table with his jeans rolled up. Gregory's brunette companion was inspecting a small but deep cut on his left leg, a few inches above his ankle. The area around the wound was bruised, but all-in-all, there seemed to be no lasting damage.

"What happened?" Token asked, moving so that he could stand next to his friend.

"I knocked myself into one of the machines," Clyde said, wincing when the man in front of him prodded the cut roughly. "It fucking hurts, dude," He whined.

"He's complaining," Craig stated, obviously bored, "He's fine."

"_Craig_, I'm serious," Clyde whimpered, shifting slightly in discomfort.

"Stop moveeng," the Frenchman snapped, holding his leg still with a firm grip. "Gregoree," he called to the blonde, "Go get ze bandages."

"Yes, darling," came Gregory's mocking retort, though the amused glint in his eyes ruined the effect. He then disappeared into one of the tents.

"Who are you?" Kyle asked bluntly, staring at the brunette.

"Christophe," he replied curtly, taking a closer look at Clyde's bruises.

"Thank you for saving us," Kyle said appreciatively.

"Do not t'ank me for dumb luck," Christophe growled, "Fuckieeng eediots, not checkeeng your radio…"

Stan frowned at this but decided it was better to not say anything. While Stan was strong from years of football, he knew that the Frenchman was someone he should not pick a fight with. Beneath the black jacket and dark jeans was pure muscle. The guy didn't have a single ounce of fat on his body. He had the eyes of someone who had lived a hard life, a special kind of strength churning in their brown depths. There was a long scar on the right side of his neck that extended from the bottom of his ear and disappeared beneath his jacket. Stan had a feeling that there were many more like it beneath the teen's clothes. His thoughts were interrupted when Gregory returned, holding a first-aid kit. Christophe took it from him with a small nod of thanks. With expert ease, the brunette bandaged Clyde's wound, his rough hands working swiftly and carefully.

"You were not bitten?" He asked, "Blood from a walker deed not touch ze wound?"

Clyde shook his head.

"Zen you will live," Christophe said, standing up and brushing snow off of his pants.

"Thanks," Clyde said, unrolling his jeans.

"Well, now that that's all settled," Kenny said, grinning cheerfully, "Let's eat!"

Gregory and Christophe exchanged bemused looks as the rest of the group laughed.

"Do you guys have food?" Token asked.

"Of course," Gregory said, "Why don't you all get comfortable? Christophe and I will fetch something from the supply tent."

While the blonde pulled the Frenchman away, the rest of the group gathered around the fire pit in the middle of the clearing, chatting happily and grinning at the prospect of food. Kenny managed to get a fire going with his lighter. Stan found himself squeezed between Butters and Token as the teenagers huddled around the heat. A few minutes later, Gregory and Christophe returned with several cans of beans and a handful of fish. Stan watched with awe as the two teens set about cooking their meal.

"You guys look like you've done this before," Stan commented. Christophe turned to him and raised an eyebrow. Stan flushed when he realized how stupid he sounded. The two other teens had a camp set up in the forest. Of course they would be used to cooking their own food.

Gregory, however, laughed and replied, "We've always been the camping type."

Stan noticed the glance Christophe shot the blonde. It almost looked like a warning look. Gregory held his gaze steadily before finally breaking eye contact and turning his attention back to the food he was cooking. The incident was quickly forgotten, however, when food was pushed into Stan's hands a few minutes later.

"Where did you get the fish?" Kenny asked curiously, chewing happily.

"There's a lake just past those trees," Gregory said, gesturing towards the trees at the back of their campsite, "Christophe figured out a way to cut through the ice and catch them."

"Awesome," Kenny commented, taking another large bite.

"Were there other survivors with you in the steel mill?" Kyle asked.

Gregory and Christophe visibly stiffened at the question. After a few moments of silence, Christophe answered, "Zey deed not make eet."

Noticing that he had treaded into dangerous territory, Kyle lowered his head and offered a sincere apology before dropping the topic completely.

"Where are you all from?" Gregory asked, breaking the tense silence that followed Kyle's question.

"South Park, Colorado," Craig answered.

"Looks like you all have had a very long trip," Gregory said.

"Not a very fun one," Token commented.

"You must be tired," Gregory said, standing up, "Christophe and I will set up our spare tents."

Stan watched the blonde and brunette head over to the larger of the two tents before turning back to his half-eaten meal. He sighed, weary from the long day, before taking another bite of food, eternally grateful that they had found a safe place to stay.

~o~o~o~

Kyle watched Stan follow Kenny, Butters, and Token into their tent with a heavy weight in his heart.

"Kyle? Dude, you coming?" Clyde's voice snapped the redhead out of his daze.

"Yeah," Kyle muttered, turning towards the brunette towards the tent they were sharing with Craig and Tweek.

Tweek and Craig were already curled up under a heavy blanket, pressed so close together that they looked like one person. Clyde slid in next to them, turning onto his stomach and burying his head in his arms, sighing softly. Kyle followed suit, taking his place next to Clyde and turning so that his back was facing the brunette.

As he watched the sunlight fade through the fabricmaterial of the tent, Kyle let his mind wander to the blue-eyed noirette who was sleeping in the tent adjacent to his. The pressure in his chest returned and, suddenly feeling vulnerable, Kyle curled into himself. He didn't want to fight anymore. He missed his best friend terribly. The anger that he had felt towards the noirette was nearly gone. In its place was a monumental amount of sorrow. His thoughts drifted back to the night he had nearly died in the supermarket.

_"Fuck!" Kyle screamed, swinging wildly at the walkers in front of him. He felt a sick satisfaction when his lacrosse stick connected with flesh and one of the monsters dropped to the floor. His stomach plummeted, however, when a different walker dropped to the floor, snarling and eying Sam's unconscious form. "No!" Kyle cried, kicking out and knocking the walker back with his foot. He reached down and grabbed onto Sam's shoulder, trying desperately to drag his dead weight back towards the loading dock. He used his free arm to swing at the advancing walkers. _

_The walkers, however, had the advantage of numbers._

_One pounced onto Sam's body like a wild animal, tearing into the man's flesh with its sharp teeth. Another pushed forward towards Kyle and collided with him before the redhead even registered what was happening. Kyle lost his footing and stumbled backwards into one of the shelves on the side of the aisle. Pain seared through his arm and he felt something warm and sticky begin to seep out, but he ignored it in favor of fighting off the walker that was trying to sink its teeth into his neck. Using his lacrosse stick, Kyle knocked the creature to the floor and firmly stomped on its head, grimacing when he heard its neck snap beneath his foot. He turned back towards Sam and almost puked at what he saw._

_The remaining walkers were crowded around Sam, tearing into his body with an animalistic ferocity. One stopped feeding long enough to glance up at Kyle, bloodied teeth bared hungrily. Kyle swung at it, knocking its head to one side with the force of the blow. The other walkers began to grow restless in his presence, crouching over Sam's bloody corpse as if protecting their kill. Kyle decided to take his change and brought his lacrosse stick down on the head of the closest walker. It slumped to the floor where it lay unmoving. The three remaining walkers, sensing the danger, snarled and abandoned their kill. Kyle stumbled backwards as they began reaching for him. Biting his lip and tightening his grip on the smooth metal in his hand, Kyle took a deep breath and slammed his weapon down onto the head of one of the walkers. He kicked another one back and broke its neck with another quick swing of his lacrosse stick. The third, however, managed to grab onto his shoulder and knock him off balance. Kyle cried out when he tumbled to the floor, the snarling creature landing on top of him. His lacrosse stick flew from his hand and landed a few feet away with an echoing _clank_._

_Kyle gripped the walker's throat and used all of the strength in his arms to keep its leering face and slobbering jaws away from him. It continued to fight, thrashing wildly in the redhead's grip and causing Kyle's arms to burn from exertion. Thinking quickly, the redhead hooked one leg around the waist of the walker and, using his entire weight, managed to roll over so that he was the one on top. With a ferocity he didn't know he had, Kyle began slamming the creature's head into the concrete floor beneath them. It snarled angrily and continued to thrash, but its struggles grew weaker with every blow to its head. Finally, Kyle heard a crack and the walker lay still beneath him. _

_Gasping for breath, Kyle stumbled to his feet, staring down in horror at the bloody mess on the floor. He swallowed the bile in his throat and decided to risk a glance at Sam's body._

_The man's corpse was a bloody mess. Huge sections of flesh were missing from his torso, neck, and arms and his eyes, still open, were glazed over and haunted. This time, Kyle couldn't help it. He turned away and puked harshly, gagging at the acrid taste of the contents of his stomach. When he was done, he wiped his mouth and took a deep breath. Tears stung his eyes when the nature of the situation finally registered._

_Sam was dead._

_He had failed._

_A man was _dead_ because of _him_._

_Dazed, distraught, and slightly dizzy from blood loss, Kyle retrieved his lacrosse stick and began to make his way to the loading dock. _

_At least Stan would be there. If nothing else, at least his best friend would be there to help him shoulder this burden._

But he wasn't, Kyle reflected. Stan wasn't there for him. Where he had been expecting comfort and worry, all he had found was anger and blame. Stan had been angry with him – not because he had put his own life in danger – but because he had endangered their friends. Kyle had really needed his super best friend – the one who had always been there for him. But Stan had failed him.

'_Does he even care?'_ Kyle asked himself, feeling incredibly vulnerable and insecure.

It was a terrifying thought.

Kyle had realized that he was in love with Stan in seventh grade. And as the years went on, he couldn't help but feel that their relationship was something much more than just that of super best friends. It was like an unspoken agreement that they belonged together. Sure, Kyle had always been jealous of Wendy when she and Stan were trying to work through their on-and-off relationship, but when he and Stan were alone, he couldn't help but feel like the bond between them was stronger than anything Stan had with Wendy. He always thought that there was _something_ there. But seeing Stan's furious face and hearing his accusing words had begun to make Kyle feel doubtful. Had he just been making everything up in his head? Was Stan's constant need for physical contact with the redhead nothing more than casual touches exchanged between friends?

Kyle had nearly died in that supermarket. And it was his fault that Sam had died. He didn't need another person blaming him for what had happened. He needed a friend. And the thought that his best friend – the person he had loved for years – did not care, was even more terrifying than the walking dead that stalked the world around him.

~o~o~o~

Gregory was freezing. Though he was wrapped in a thick blanket and clad in his jacket and pants, it was much too cold to be sleeping in a tent. He shivered and tried to burrow himself deeper into the blanket, but it did little to ease the cold. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms encircled his waist and he was pulled back into a warm chest. Gregory sighed contentedly as he turned around and buried his face in Christophe's neck.

"Better?" His boyfriend asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Much," Gregory said, kissing the scar on his lover's neck. "Always looking out for me," he whispered. The arms around the blonde tightened at the hidden meaning of those words.

"I love you," Gregory murmured.

"_Je t'aime trop_. Now go to sleep."

In the tent next to theirs, Clyde was burning up. It felt as if someone had set fire to his veins. He whimpered pitifully and shifted restlessly, trying to find a cooler, more comfortable position. Nothing was helping. It felt like the fire was eating away at his insides, a sickening, burning pain that made him want to scream. Tears slipped down his cheeks, cool in contrast to his sweltering skin.

Something was terribly wrong.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, hope you all liked it! Sorry if it wasn't my best chapter, I'll admit that I didn't do too much proof-reading (aka: none at all) because I just really wanted to get this posted.

But...yeah...yay Christophe and Gregory! :D

And cookies to whoever can guess what's going on with Clyde! :D

Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Oh my God, my poor _readers!_ I am, by far, the WORST writer that has ever existed! Seriously, feel free to beat me over the head with something blunt and heavy, I totally deserve that and worse! I am SO SO sorry for dropping off the face of the earth!

I could give you a long (VERY long) list of excuses as to why this chapter took for-_freaking_-ever (how long has it been? 6 months? More? Dear God...), but instead of boring you with that, I'll just say that life has been waaay too much to handle lately :( And I made a stupid mistake with this one. You see, this was actually supposed to be Chapter 9. The chapter that I had been working on that was supposed to be Chapter 8 was almost finished when I realized that I needed to switch the chapters -_- So, the bad news is that I could've updated weeks ago but I had to go through the process of writing ANOTHER chapter. The good news though is that Chapter 9 is nearly finished (I just need to tweak some things) so you can expect an update soon! (and I mean it this time!)

Now, enough of my excuses and groveling. Enjoy the chapter! (even though I'm pretty sure you're all gonna want to kill me for it...) Also ignore any mistakes...I didn't proofread (as per usual...) Also, sorry it's a little shorter than usual. Chapter 9 is much longer, so that should make up for it :)

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><p><em>Chapter 8<em>

When Gregory woke up, he was alone. Groggily, the blonde untangled himself from the various blankets that were draped over his body. The space beside him was cold. Christophe had been gone for a while. Gregory yawned and stretched as well as he could in the confines of the tent before pulling on another jacket and making his way outside. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting an orange hue on the campsite. In the soft silence of the morning, he could hear the faint singing of birds. The melodic tunes soothed him, something normal in a world gone completely mad.

The rustling sounds to his left, however, set him immediately on edge. He quickly reached for the small handgun that he kept on his belt and drew it. While he would rather not waste a bullet and awaken the rest of camp – as well as drawing the attention of anything else that happened to be wandering about – he had not grabbed one of his hunting knives.

"You need to learn 'ow to relax, _mon cher_," a familiar voice called out, making Gregory sigh in relief.

"If you weren't creeping around out there making a bloody good amount of noise, I would have no reason to worry," Gregory retorted, lowing the gun that was currently pointed at his boyfriend's head.

Christophe flashed him a grin before taking a long drag of the cigarette that was dangling from his lips. Even the end of the world did nothing to make the Frenchman kick the disgusting habit.

"What on earth were you doing out there anyway?" Gregory asked curiously.

"Setting a perimeter," Christophe said, "I want to 'ere zees beetches before zey get too close to ze camp."

"Let me guess, empty cans and fishing wire?"

"_Oui_.

"How far out?"

"Couple 'undred feet. Far enough." The Frenchman paused momentarily. "You were really going to waste a bullet on me?"

The Brit rolled his eyes, "I forgot to grab a knife."

"Smart."

"Shut up," Gregory cuffed his boyfriend playfully, "Speaking of which, I was wondering about what we should do with these newcomers in terms of arming them."

"You want to give zem guns?"

"We might as well make them able to protect themselves. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be in charge of looking after their arses."

Christophe huffed, "Fine. But not ze twitchy one."

Gregory laughed. "Not the twitchy one," he agreed.

"I'll go make some breakfast," Christophe said, changing subjects.

"How are we doing with supplies?"

"We 'ave enough for anozzer couple of weeks," Christophe said, "I will 'ave to start feeshing again when we run out."

"Why don't you take some of them with you and teach them? They might as well make themselves useful."

Christophe nodded in agreement before stalking off towards the supply tent, blood-encrusted shovel slung casually over one of his shoulders. Gregory watched him for several heartbeats before deciding to make _himself_ useful and get a fire going.

~o~o~o~

When Tweek woke up, he instantly became aware of two things. One: he was incredibly cold, and two: the left side of his body was burning up despite the frigid temperatures. He froze, trembling slightly as he tried to determine what could be causing the heat. Could the tent be on fire? His hazel eyes widened at the horrifying thought, but then he managed to calm himself. The fire pit was a good 20 feet away. The likelihood of the tent being on fire was very low. Besides, he would smell smoke, and a quick sniff of the air told him that there was no black could of death in the area. But what if there was a type of fire that didn't make smoke? Did that exist? But wouldn't the entire tent be up in – smokeless – flames by now? So why was only his left side burning hot? Confused, and fighting to keep from freaking out, he sat up. He shivered as he untangled himself from his blanket but he ignored the cold in favor of glancing down at the figure lying beside him.

Clyde's back was facing him, but he didn't seem to be resting peacefully. He was shaking violently as if he were extremely cold. But he couldn't possibly be _that_ cold, could he? He was curled up under at least two heavy blankets and had fallen asleep in his jeans and thick outer jacket. Besides, the heat seemed to be coming from him, so him being cold made absolutely no sense.

"C-Clyde?" Tweek asked, shaking the brunette slightly and frowning at the heat that was radiating off of the other teen's body.

"Clyde!" Tweek tried again, shaking his friend more firmly.

When Clyde didn't even stir, Tweek pulled him over so that he was lying on his back. One glance at his friend's face made Tweek's heart skip a beat.

"GAH! O-OH JESUS! SH-SHIT!"

~o~o~o~

Craig was talking with Stan and Kenny when shouting from across the clearing caught his attention. Conversation stopped as Tweek came stumbling towards them, shouting something about Clyde and twitching so badly that it was a wonder he was even holding himself upright.

"Tweek?" Craig asked before he suddenly found himself with an armful of shaking blonde.

"Th-there's something w-wrong with Clyde!" Tweek shrieked frantically.

"What?" Craig asked.

"ACK! He's burning up!" Tweek shouted, "G-God man, it f-feels like he's – _ngh_ – on f-fire! Invisible fire! I c-can't see it, but it's like he's b-burning alive! OhGodOhGodOhGod, what do we do?"

"Where is he?" Kenny asked before Craig could say anything.

"Our tent," Tweek whimpered, pulling on Craig's sleeve, "GAH! We h-have to help him!"

Craig nodded, letting the petite blonde drag him back towards the tent. Craig pulled back the flap covering the entrance and peeked in. The normally stoic teen gasped at what he saw.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Stan asked as he and Kenny came up behind him.

Dead serious, Craig turned to them and said, "You might want to go get Christophe and Gregory."

Craig watched as the pair scampered off in search of their foreign companions. Tweek slipped past the noirette and sat down next to Clyde, running a shaky hand through the brunette's hair.

"He'll be ok, r-right Craig?" Tweek asked, turning worried eyes to his boyfriend.

Craig knelt down next to him and pulled him into his arms. "He'll be fine," he told the smaller boy, tightening his grip and Tweek began to shiver, "It's probably just a fever. Christophe and Gregory will know what to do."

It wasn't much, but Tweek seemed to take comfort in his words. The blonde nodded slightly and buried his face in Craig's chest. Craig only wished that he felt as calm as he sounded.

~o~o~o~

Clyde was deathly pale, the dark bags beneath his sunken eyes standing out in sharp contrast to his pasty skin. Though the outside temperature had dropped during the night, a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Stan watched as the brunette shifted restlessly, mumbling something unintelligible through his trembling blue-tinted lips.

"What's wrong with him?" Stan asked, staring wide-eyed at his friend.

Christophe crouched down and placed a hand on the teen's forehead. His brown eyes darkened as he quickly moved to Clyde's leg. The Frenchman gently rolled up Clyde's jeans, bringing his leg wound into sight. Stan couldn't help but gasp at what he saw.

The skin around the wound was a sickly grey color as if it were completely dead. The wound itself was a mixture of yellow, red, and black. It was a sickening sight and Stan could feel his stomach lurch as he looked at it.

"It looks infected," Kenny said.

"Eet's infected alright," Christophe snapped, standing up and pushing his way out of the tent. Gregory glanced down at Clyde wearily before following his companion. Kenny and Stan scrambled after them, leaving Craig and Tweek with Clyde.

"Do you guys have any antibiotics?" Stan asked.

"Even if we did, they wouldn't do any good," Gregory said.

"What do you mean?" Kenny asked.

"This is not an infection we can fight."

"But – "

"Don't you eediots understand?" Christophe broke in, "Your friend has been exposed to ze blood of a walker. Zere eez not'ing we can do."

"That's not possible," Kenny argued angrily, "He would have turned by now."

"If he was _bitten_, yes," Gregory said, "But it looks like the wound on his leg came in contact with walker blood."

"Eet will take a longer time for ze effects to show," Christophe added, "I would predict zat we 'ave anozzer 'our or two before 'e turns."

Stan and Kenny fell silent.

"What…what should we do?" Stan asked quietly.

"Ze answer eez obvious," Christophe replied.

"_Kill_ him?" Kenny asked, horrified at the thought.

"Before he turns and becomes a threat to us all," Gregory said rationally, trying to keep the other teenagers calm.

"You can't be _serious_."

"If you have any better ideas, do share."

Kenny opened his mouth to reply but found that he had nothing to say.

"He needs to know," Stan said quietly, "So he can decide how…"

Gregory and Christophe nodded, showing that they understood and relieving the noirette from continuing.

"Who should tell him?" Stan asked, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Token," Kenny responded almost immediately. "He's his best friend. Clyde would want to hear it from him."

"Shit," Stan breathed.

"I'll go fetch him," Gregory said.

"Wait," Craig spoke up from behind the group, surprising the others, "We'll tell him." Tweek, latched onto the older boy's arm, nodded shakily, but his eyes were set and determined.

"H-He should h-hear it from us," Tweek said.

Stan nodded, "Ok."

"I sent him and Kyle to fetch some firewood," Gregory told them, "They should be close by. If you follow the game trail behind the supply tent, you should run into them."

"Thanks," Craig said shortly before tugging his boyfriend towards the edge of the clearing.

"Wait," Gregory called, "Before you go, take this." He handed Craig a handgun. "Give it to Token," he instructed, "We can't know for sure when Clyde will turn. If Token plans on being in the tent alone with him, I'd rather he had some way of defending himself."

Craig stared grimly down at the gun before nodding silently.

Stan and Kenny exchanged an agonized look before watching their two friends disappear into the forest. Stan shivered and pulled his jacket more tightly around his body. Suddenly, the air seemed even more impossibly cold than before.

~o~o~o~

Craig and Tweek found Token and Kyle only a couple hundred feet from the clearing. They were both struggling to carry heavy loads of firewood.

"What're you guys doing out here?" Token asked curiously, catching sight of them.

"We need to talk to you," Craig said, cutting straight to the point.

"Both of us?" Kyle asked.

"Just Token," Craig told him.

Kyle just shrugged before continuing on down the game trail. Token, meanwhile, set down his share of firewood with a small sigh of relief.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You might want to sit down," Craig advised, finding himself a seat on a rock by the edge of the path.

Token just sent him a curious look before settling down on his pile of firewood.

The three sat in relative silence for several minutes, Craig searching for the right words; Tweek tugging at his hair and trying to keep from screaming, crying, or both; and Token looking confusedly between his two friends.

"Token…" Craig finally started, "There's…well…there's something wrong with Clyde."

"Is he sick?" Token asked worriedly.

"You could say that…" Craig said, pulling off his chullo and running a hand through his messy black hair.

This action set Token on edge. Craig was obviously upset, and seeing his ever stoic friend so affected by something made Token nervous.

"What's wrong with him?" Token asked, a demanding tone entering his voice.

Craig sighed. Tweek placed a small, thin hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, trying to comfort him though he himself was shaking like a leaf.

"He's infected," Craig finally said.

"As in…his leg wound got infected?" Token asked, "Don't Christophe and Gregory have antibiotics or something?"

"Not that kind of infection, Token."

Token's eyes widened at this. "What? But that's impossible!" He blurted out, "He wasn't bitten!"

"Christophe and Gregory think that blood from one of those monsters came in contact with the cut on Clyde's leg at the steel mill," Craig explained.

"You're kidding right?" Token asked, wanting so desperately to believe it. But then he saw a tear escape from one of Tweek's eyes and he knew that his friend was telling the truth. "No…" he whispered, "That can't…it _can't _be true."

Craig just shook his head, refusing to meet Token's eyes.

"How long?" Token croaked.

"Th-they don't know," Tweek spoke up, "_Ngh_ – B-but they think m-maybe an hour or two."

"Does he know?" Token asked.

Craig shook his head again, "We thought that it would be best if you told him."

Token looked as if he were about to vomit.

"Y-you're his best friend," Tweek whimpered, "He w-would want to h-hear it from you."

Now Token looked like he was about to cry.

Craig swallowed painfully and pulled out the gun Gregory had given him. Token stared at him as he held it out, but he didn't take it.

"Gregory said it's for protection," Craig explained, "We don't know when it'll happen."

Tentatively, Token reached out and took the weapon, small tremors running through his fingers.

Craig then did something very uncharacteristic. He stood up and pulled Token into a tight embrace.

"Be strong for him," Craig said, "He needs you right now."

All Token could do was nod as Tweek burst into tears behind them.

~o~o~o~

Token spent about ten minutes just standing outside the tent. The small structure that had provided a sense of shelter now caused his stomach to churn painfully. Tears were burning in the backs of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong. For himself. For his friends. For Clyde.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the flap and crawled into the tent. He almost lost whatever composure he had at the sight of his best friend.

"Clyde…" Token murmured, drawing the brunette's attention.

"H-hey dude," Clyde greeted him weakly.

"You look like shit," Token said bluntly.

Clyde chuckled slightly, wincing as if the simple action had caused him pain. "Feel 'bout ten times worse," he rasped.

Token moved to sit at his friend's side. They sat in amiable, yet heavy, silence for several minutes before Clyde spoke up again.

"How long?" He asked vaguely.

"What are you – "

"You know what I'm talking about," Clyde interrupted.

Token sighed, "An hour, maybe two. But we can't be sure."

Clyde nodded, eyes trained on his lap as he processed this information. Token, on the other hand, could not keep his eyes off of his friend. Silence fell again, but this time, there was a sinister weight to it.

Clyde tried to be quiet about it, but he had always been a messy crier. Normally, he would blubber and wail almost incoherently, voice breaking and hitching while tears – and snot – streamed down his face. He wasn't speaking now, but the telltale soft hiccups and hitched breaths were still present.

"Clyde…" Token started, reaching out to comfort him.

Clyde finally looked up and Token's heart clenched when he saw the tears that were present on his friend's face. Token laid a comforting hand on the other teen's shoulder.

"I want you to do it," Clyde said, a sudden clarity entering those brown eyes that had been so clouded over with tears.

"Wh-what?" Token stammered.

"I want you to be the one to pull the trigger," Clyde explained, a sob escaping his lips.

"Why me?" Token demanded, feeling tears once again burning at the backs of his eyes.

"You're my b-best friend," Clyde sobbed, "P-please, Token. _Please_."

"R-Right now?" A tear slipped down one of Token's cheeks.

"I w-want to…" Clyde struggled to continue, "to d-die _human_. I d-don't want to turn into one of those _th-things_."

Token didn't know what to say. His best friend, someone he had known since they were both toddlers, was asking – no, _begging_ – him to put a bullet through his skull. He wanted to argue, to scream, and to curse at the cruel God who had put them all in this situation. But he held back. He stared into the tear-streaked face of the teen in front of him and made his decision. Had the dark-skinned teen been in Clyde's position, he would be asking for the same thing. He reached out to his friend, hugging him to his chest and burying his face in his sweaty brown hair.

"Ok," he whispered, clutching the other boy tightly, "Ok."

Clyde wrapped his arms around Token and hugged him weakly. Token felt a breath of warm air on the side of his neck as Clyde sighed.

"Thank you," he whispered, relief almost tangible in his voice.

Token wanted to run and hide from his newfound responsibility. He would give anything to just close his eyes and pretend that nothing was wrong. And while he wanted to simply hold his friend until the very last minute, he knew that it was now or never.

Several tears streaked down his cheeks as he reached back to where he had Gregory's gun tucked into the back of his jeans. He felt Clyde tremble in his arms, aware of what was happening. Token switched off the safety with a soft _click_, the sound making Clyde freeze completely, and brought the gun to his best friend's temple.

"I love you, Clyde," Token said, voice thick with tears, "You're the best friend I've ever had."

"I love you too, dude," Clyde sobbed, "T-Take care of the group for me, o-ok?"

"Of course," Token whispered.

Clyde placed one hand on the back of Token's neck and gently brought their foreheads together, a comforting gesture that dated back to their childhood years.

The gunshot was heard throughout the camp.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So...yeah...I killed Clyde...Trust me, I'm just as upset as you guys! Unfortunately, I needed to be realistic. This was bound to happen sooner or later to someone in the group :(

For the people who are reading this, thank you so much for sticking with me! It means the world to me that you are putting up with my bullshit!

I'll try to get Chapter 9 up very soon (within a week or so). After that, updates may be a bit spotty, I have my IB exams coming up next month (for those of you who don't know what IB is, the exams are these huge tests that can last up to 6 hours each - split up on different days - and include information that I've been learning in my college level courses over the past TWO years) So I'll probably be too busy busting my ass and studying like the world is ending. But once those are done, I'm completely done with school, so I should have PLENTY of time to get some writing done! So just be patient with me (I know it's asking a lot cuz you guys have already been so amazing), I promise that this story will be finished!


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Oh god...it's been waaaay too long again, hasn't it? I'm sorry guys :( I've been really busy lately and there have been A LOT of problems in my personal life. I won't bore you with the details, but things have just been kinda sucky lately...

On a different note, holy crap guys! This story now has over 100 reviews! :D Thank you all SO SO much! I can't even believe it!

I also realize that I forgot to thank the people who reviewed chapter 7, so a HUGE thank you to Riverofwind25, insideInsomnia, karolinami132, Guest, SugarPrincess42, AllieHasStyle, Angecael Gliorixx, Vanguard Bunny, xSucksToYourAss-marx, Amberr-Lynn, FallenAngelWolf aka lilysmom09, Anonymously Missing, Seneschal, xXCookieDoughXx, WxTxR, EmotionalDisaster666, Bambi4ever, and S.E. Mellark. You guys are AWESOME!

And for chapter 8, thank you to Schizo Zombie Kitten, NimNimAwesome, Guest, Kendimo, pkiri, stan-kyle, Love MiLou, sachi-sama, NekoPuppet, Angecael Gliorixx, Kid, soniccane, Hubajoob, DarkAeon, Anonymously Missing, Riverofwind25, FallenAngelWolf aka lilysmom09, ADeadBlackRose, Bambi4ever, insideInsomnia, dotdotdanii, WxTxR, Seneschal, and Jsjxhs. Wow that's a lot of you O.O I love you all!

Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything...

**IMPORTANT: So I know that has been taking down stories lately. If this story ever gets taken down, I have made a LiveJournal account ( xxtweekersxx . livejournal . com - just remove the spaces). I'll be posting the story there too soon, so you can always find it again :)**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 9<em>

They buried him just outside of the camp at the foot of one of the many bare, dead trees. Token found this hilarious. Of course they would bury a _dead_ person at the roots of a _dead_ tree. He withheld a chuckle and looked to his right, wanting to share his little observation with Clyde.

But Clyde wasn't there.

Clyde was _dead_.

Clyde was buried in front of him at the roots of a _dead_ tree.

He couldn't hold in the laugh this time. It burst through his lips and left his body with the force of a freight train, making his ribs and chest ache painfully in a manner that they never had before. But it didn't sound like a laugh. Not at all. It almost sounded like a sob. But why would he be crying? The situation was funny. Just so fucking hilarious. He noticed that the people standing near him were sending him worried looks. But he didn't care.

Clyde was _dead_.

Clyde was buried at the roots of a _dead_ tree.

And it was just so fucking _funny_ that he could barely contain himself. Because, really, who dies from a cut – only about three inches long – on their leg? Clyde was obviously fucking with all of them. Any moment now, he would come crawling out of the earth, whining about the dirt and snow in his hair. And they would all laugh at his prank – his fucking _hilarious_ prank. But Clyde didn't crawl out of the ground.

No.

Clyde was _dead_.

Clyde was buried at the roots of a _dead_ tree.

Clyde was also an asshole, Token decided. What kind of person manages to get cut at a fucking _steel mill_? And what kind of person manages to get infected blood into the cut? The cut that was only _three fucking inches long_? And that's just the kicker. The asshole had survived their hometown being overrun; he had survived Telluride and the supermarket in Iowa. Clyde has survived the _apocalypse_ for fucks sake.

But now Clyde was dead.

_Clyde_ was dead.

Clyde was _dead_.

And Token was alone.

~o~o~o~

It was snowing when Stan woke up. He stumbled out of the tent he was sharing with Kenny and Butters, pulling his jacket more tightly around him as he stared in awe at the white sheet covering the breath came out in faint wisps of clouds that swiftly disappeared in the morning light. None of his friends seemed to be awake. The camp was void of any activity except Christophe and Gregory, who were huddled together by one of the tables discussing something in hushed voices. Stan watched them quietly, fixated on the way the frigid wind blew through Christophe's messy brown hair. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to picture a shorter, chubbier brunette in Christophe's place, wrapped in a red jacket and whining loudly about being hungry. He wasn't surprised when he felt his eyes well up with tears.

It had been three days since they buried Clyde. The emotional wounds left by the death of their close friend were still excruciatingly painful. Clyde's death had been hard on everyone, especially on Token. Stan shivered as he recalled how Token had broken down once they had buried Clyde. The dark-skinned teen had laughed like a madman before bursting into tears and screaming something about Clyde being an asshole. He had been an utter mess for at least an hour afterwards until he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. Stan hadn't seen him since. He knew that Craig and Tweek had taken him into their tent and spent most of their time with him, and he could tell by the dark circles under Tweek's eyes and the haggard look on Craig's face that Token was still not doing well. But that was to be expected. Stan was glad that he hadn't been as close to Clyde as Token, Craig, and Tweek had. He felt like a terrible person for feeling that way, but he just didn't know what he would do if he had lost Kyle or Kenny. It had been hard enough losing Cartman – Stan had known him for practically his entire life – and Cartman had been an asshole.

Across the clearing, Christophe said something that made his blonde companion laugh and punch him affectionately. The sight of the two bickering playfully made Stan's heart ache. He missed Kyle, especially now when he really needed a shoulder to lean on.

There was some rustling behind him and he turned to see Kenny sleepily emerging from their tent. The blonde's hair was messy, sticking up in odd places. Kenny didn't seem to mind though; he merely yawned and waved at the noirette, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"What're you doing up?" Stan asked.

"I could ask you the same question," Kenny replied raising an eyebrow.

"Couldn't go back to sleep," Stan said simply, shrugging and turning back to watch Gregory and Christophe. Kenny came up to stand beside him. Stan, aware of his presence, didn't bother to turn and look at him.

Kenny stood beside him quietly for a minute or two, watching the pair across the clearing, before finally breaking the silence. "You know, I'm sure that if you tried talking to him, he'd listen."

Stan just snorted and looked away.

"Seriously though," Kenny said, voice softening, "Talk to him. He went through something really traumatic, you know. He almost died. And he had to watch someone that he was trying to save get eaten right in front of him. He may not know it, but he really needs you right now. Besides, now is definitely not the time to be arguing. You saw what happened to Clyde. Shit like that could happen at any time. Do you really wanna risk having something happen to him without him knowing how important he is to you?"

Stan felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "You're more insightful than you look, Kenny," he said jokingly, trying to dispel his discomfort.

"Not sure if that's supposed to be an insult or a compliment," Kenny said, laughing slightly, "But, seeing as you love me so much, I'll take it as a compliment."

"Cocky bastard."

"Dumb jock."

"Whore."

"Prude."

Kenny started laughing and, after a brief pause, Stan joined in. He felt a genuine smile grace his lips for the first time since Clyde's death.

The smell of cooking eggs drew Stan's attention. His stomach growled hungrily as his blue eyes scanned the clearing, searching for the source of the smell. While Stan had been talking to Kenny, Gregory and Christophe had abandoned their place by the table. Now, Gregory was poking the fire-pit with a stick, trying to get a fire going. Christophe, who was kneeling beside him, was cracking several eggs into a small frying pan that he was holding over the slowly growing flame.

"I like these guys," Kenny commented, grinning happily, "They feed us!"

Stan rolled his eyes good-naturedly and lightly punched his friend on the arm. Kenny retaliated by grabbing onto Stan's jacket and pulling him towards the other pair of teens.

Christophe and Gregory both looked up when Stan and Kenny appeared in front of them. Christophe immediately dropped his gaze, seeming slightly awkward while Gregory maintained eye contact. Several moments of silence passed before the Brit seemed to snap out of his daze. "Good morning," he greeted, his smile seeming a bit forced and his words a bit cautious, "Did you sleep well?"

Both Christophe and Gregory seemed uncomfortable, though they hid it very well. Stan realized that they were probably worried about how well he and Kenny were dealing with Clyde's death. They had been very careful around the rest of the group ever since Clyde's death, as if afraid that if they said the wrong thing the teenagers would have mental/emotional breakdowns, not unlike Token during Clyde's burial. Stan couldn't blame them for feeling out of their element.

Deciding to dispel the tense atmosphere, Stan gave them a small, but genuine, smile and said, "Well enough; thanks."

Kenny caught on to what Stan was doing. He let an easy grin spread across his face, "Same here. Is that breakfast?" He pointed towards the frying pan.

Gregory visibly relaxed and nodded. "They should be ready for eating soon," he said.

Christophe still seemed tense, but Stan had noticed that he was the less social of the two anyway. The Frenchman finally spoke, addressing Gregory. "We need plates," he said simply.

"Why don't you go get some, I'll finish up here," Gregory told him, taking the frying pan from him.

"Don't burn zem, _oui?_" Christophe teased.

Gregory blushed, "I am perfectly capable of frying some _eggs_."

Christophe snickered and said something in French. While Stan didn't know French, it was obvious that Christophe was commenting on British people and their terrible cooking. Gregory glared at him then blushed brilliantly when Christophe added something that Stan didn't understand at all.

"Fetch the radar while you're in the tent, will you? I don't like the look of those clouds." Gregory called after Christophe as he walked away.

The Frenchman held up a hand to show that he had heard.

"I hate him…" Gregory muttered, watching him walk away.

"Sure you do," Kenny laughed.

"How did a Frenchman and a Brit end up travelling around together in America anyway?" Stan asked curiously.

Gregory chuckled dryly, "_That_ is a long story. Christophe has been living with me in London for several years. We have known each other since we were children."

"Are there walkers in Europe too?" Kenny asked.

Gregory nodded, "That's where the outbreak started."

"Really?"

"Yes, just outside of London, actually. We came here to America, hoping that the infection had not already crossed the Atlantic."

"How did you guys get all the way over here?" Stan asked.

"We took a boat."

"And the walkers?"

"I don't even want to know," Gregory admitted, "They were already here when we finally docked."

Christophe returned before Stan or Kenny could ask any more questions.

"Just in time," Gregory commented, taking a stack of paper plates from the brunette and scooping some of the eggs onto them. He then handed them to the hungry teens before him.

Christophe was also holding a small device that Stan had never seen before. He watched, fascinated as Christophe fiddled with it, punching buttons and frowning at the small screen.

"What's wrong, love?" Gregory asked.

"I can't get a signal," the Frenchman grumbled, "I need to get to hig'er ground."

"Fine fine," Gregory said, waving him off.

Christophe rolled his eyes before tucking the small device into his pocket. Kenny and Stan then watched as the Frenchman walked over to the nearest tree and jumped up, grabbing hold of one of its branches. With an impressive display of athleticism, Christophe pulled himself up and began climbing into the sky with seemingly little effort.

"Who _are_ you people?" Kenny asked, watching as the brunette disappeared from sight as the tangle of branches grew thicker.

Gregory laughed but provided no answer. They sat in companionable silence as Stan and Kenny ate. Gregory busied himself making some more food, just in case anyone else showed up. He kept glancing up at the sky. Stan followed his gaze. The sky above him was a mixture of black and grey, sprinkled with small patches of dark blue. The sun's rays were still able to filter through the thick cloud cover, but the light that made it through was dull, casting a greyish tone on the world around him.

A soft thud signaled the return of Christophe.

"Snow storm 'eading zis way," the brunette confirmed, "About forty miles east of us."

"How fast is it moving?" Gregory asked.

"ard to tell. I'd say we 'ave about two 'ours. Maybe less, eef ze wind picks up."

"Big?"

"Nozing too bad."

"Well thank God for small miracles," Gregory muttered. He noticed the worried looks on Stan and Kenny's faces and gave them a small, reassuring smile, "Don't worry, we know what we're doing."

Stan sighed. "So what's the plan?"

~o~o~o~

Tweek woke slowly, pulling sluggishly away from the warm embrace of sleep. He kept his eyes closed, waiting patiently to come to full awareness as the sounds and smells of the camp assaulted his senses. Breathing out a soft sigh, he curled up onto his side, feeling uncharacteristically calm. With the silence of the camp, it was easy to pretend that he was back home in his warm, safe bed. He could almost smell the coffee that his parents would be brewing. The thought made him sad. His parents were – probably – dead.

Just like Clyde.

That thought alone was enough to bring him back to reality. Slowly, hazel eyes opened, blinking sluggishly as they adjusted to the morning light that was filtering through the material of the tent. Tweek turned over and reached for Craig, needing the comfort of his touch, but his hand only found a cold space beside him. He sat up nervously, glancing around the tent. Token was gone too.

He was alone.

Panicking, Tweek scrambled his way out of his sleeping bag and made for the tent's entrance, pulling on his dark green jacket as he went. The air outside was freezing but it was nothing he wasn't used too.

At first glance, the camp seemed deserted.

'_The walkers heard the gunshot yesterday,_' the voice in the back of his mind whispered, '_They came and ate all of your friends. Now they're all dead. Just like Clyde._'

Tweek groaned and tugged at his hair, shutting his eyes tightly and mentally screaming for the voice to shut up.

'Craig _is dead_._ The walkers wanted you, but they took him instead._'

'_Shut up!_'

'_Craig is dead. Craig is dead. Craig is dead_.'

'_SHUT UP!_'

He took a deep, calming breath and opened his eyes again.

This time, he noticed the figures gathered around the fire pit.

_'The walkers waited for you. They're gonna rip you apart. Just you wait_.'

Before Tweek could begin to panic again, he was able to recognize Kenny's head of messy golden hair and his signature orange parka. However, before Tweek could breathe a small sigh of relief, the voice pointed out: '_How can you be sure he's still alive? When he turns around, you'll see. He's dead too. Just like Clyde. Just like _Craig_.'_

Then Tweek saw Stan's face as the noirette turned to say something to his blonde companion. No blood, no lacerations, and a healthy pink tinge to his cheeks. Perfectly healthy. And _alive_. Tweek couldn't help but feel smug as the voice promptly shut up. He made his way over to his friends, now noticing that Christophe and Gregory were with them. If his other friends were awake, then Craig was probably –

(_Dead. Dead like Clyde)_

- off doing his own thing. The thought comforted him and the dark murmuring of his subconscious finally faded away completely.

The Frenchman, who was facing Tweek, was the first to notice his approach, dark eyes snapping up to meet his when he was still about twenty feet away. For an instant, Tweek was sure that he saw a glint of wariness in those eyes, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Kenny, noticing that Christophe's gaze was fixed on a point behind him, turned around and offered Tweek a small smile, blue eyes twinkling warmly.

"Hey Tweek," the blonde greeted, "What's up?"

"Do you kn-know where – _ngh_ – Craig is?" Tweek asked.

"He went out to get some firewood," Gregory told him.

"Eef you want to go find 'im, follow ze path be'ind ze supply tent," Christophe added, gesturing towards the break in the trees that was just visible from where the group was standing.

"Th-thanks," Tweek said, ducking his head and leaving them be, hoping that his gait would not betray his anxiety.

Before Tweek was out of earshot, he heard Kenny yell, "Hey Tweek! When you find Craig, bring him back to camp. There's a storm coming and we're gonna need some help preparing!"

Tweek waved a hand to show that he had heard.

The path looked like it had been an old game trail at one point. It wound its way through the trees, barely visible under the snow. But Tweek knew his way. It was the same path he had taken with Craig when they had tracked down Token to tell him about Clyde. The thought made him shiver.

He heard the loud _thunk_ of an axe meeting wood long before he stumbled across the source of the noise. The noise caused him to cringe and twitch nervously, but that was nothing compared to the ache in his chest brought on by the sight of his boyfriend.

Craig was facing him, but his eyes were –

(_Dead_)

- distant and he gave no indication of noticing Tweek's presence. His movements were robotic: grab a branch; chop it into pieces; push the pieces aside; and repeat.

Tweek stood silently for several minutes, just watching. The pile of chopped firewood grew steadily as Craig worked with strong, angry swings of his axe. Then Tweek noticed the stray tear that was making its way down Craig's face. Taking a closer look, Tweek saw how bloodshot his eyes were and how haggard his face was. He looked so much older than he really was, an image that was only reinforced by the defeated slouch of his shoulders and the way his hands shook even though they were clenching the axe's wooden handle tightly. Tweek could see small reddish patches appearing on the visible parts of Craig's palms and knew that the other boy would have painful blisters there.

Twitching nervously, Tweek pondered how to approach his distraught boyfriend. Had the circumstances been different, there would have been no need to worry. Even in foulest of moods, Craig always managed to make Tweek feel completely comfortable around him. This hesitance and _fear_ of approaching Craig was new to him, and it frightened him even more. He had never felt like this around his boyfriend, even during the period before they started dating. But looking at him now, Tweek found himself holding back. Craig's eyes were –

(_Dead. Dead like Clyde_)

- distant and clouded with anger, sadness, or, more likely, a mixture of both.

And Tweek didn't know how to handle it.

What do you say to somebody who lost their best friend? What do you say to somebody who lost someone that they considered to be a brother?

This was all just _way_ too much _pressure_.

While Tweek would always – _always_ – consider Clyde, even in death, to be one of his best friends, their friendship had never been at the same level as Clyde's friendship with Craig. Before Tweek had even _met_ the group of boys who would become his best friends, Craig and Clyde had been practically inseparable.

And on that note, Tweek couldn't help but think of Token. During high school, Token and Clyde had grown very close, probably because Tweek and Craig had been joined at the hip. Tweek hadn't liked the –

_(Dead)_

- vacant look in Token's eyes during Clyde's burial. At one point, the black teen had broken out in hysterical laughter. The pure insanity of the sound scared Tweek more than anything.

Everything was falling apart.

Token was going mad.

Craig was drifting away.

And it was just _way too much FUCKING pressure_!

Finally, his body moved and before his mind could catch up, he had closed the distance between himself and his boyfriend. Wordlessly – Tweek didn't trust himself to speak and his painfully dry throat seemed to agree with him – the blonde reached out for the other teen. His wound his arms – shakily but forcefully – around Craig's waist and pulled him close.

"Craig," Tweek whispered, not stuttering for once.

Craig froze and Tweek flinched, afraid that he had done something wrong. Then, all of the tension in the other teen's body melted away and Tweek found himself practically keeping Craig upright. Because Craig was taller and heavier than him, however, his knees quickly gave out and they sunk to the ground. Craig hunched over, burying his face in Tweek's chest and wrapping his arms weakly around him.

"_Craig_," Tweek whispered again, resting his chin on the top of Craig's head and stroking a hand through his thick, dark hair.

And the floodgates opened.

Tweek could feel his shirt getting wet from Craig's tears, but he didn't care. It was _his_ turn to comfort Craig – Craig, who had always been there for him. It was time to return the favor. So Tweek simply held him, rubbing soothing circles into his scalp and whispering sweet nothings in his ear, as the usually stoic teen broke down in his arms. Tweek could feel tears rising up in his own eyes but he refused to let them fall. It was his turn to be strong.

Clyde was dead.

_Clyde was dead_.

And nothing would ever be the same.

~o~o~o~

While Stan was nervous about riding out the storm in the open, he was actually very glad for the dull, mindless work that came with preparing for it. His mind was preoccupied with the task at hand, and not in danger of wandering into dangerous territory, such as thoughts concerning Clyde's death or his ongoing argument with Kyle. He was currently helping Kenny secure the tents as firmly as possible.

Kyle and Butters had joined them shortly after Tweek had gone searching for Craig. Token was still nowhere to be seen, but Stan thought that that was probably for the best. He also hadn't seen Tweek and Craig come back yet, but he wasn't worried. When Craig had disappeared into the woods earlier, he had been wearing a haunted expression, and Stan knew that Tweek and Craig needed some personal space right now.

"The supply tent is completely waterproof and was manufactured to withstand very cold temperatures," Gregory was assuring Kyle, "It's also big enough to hold all of us. We can ride out the storm in it. Trust us; we know what we're doing."

Kyle still looked doubtful, but he said nothing. He just nodded silently before continuing to help Butters gather the cooking supplies by the fire-pit. Gregory, meanwhile, busied himself helping Christophe move the table into the tent.

Stan and Kenny finished securing the tents quickly. Looking around the clearing, he asked Kenny, "Is there anything else that we can move or tie down?"

"I don't really see anything," Kenny said, "If Butters gets that box by the fire and the frying pan I think we should be fine."

"We should look for loose branches in the trees around the clearing, or anything else that can be picked up by the wind," Kyle said, coming up behind them. Stan couldn't help but notice that the redhead seemed to be only talking to Kenny.

"Good idea," Kenny agreed.

Kyle nodded, "Let's get going."

Stan and Kenny followed after the redhead, the former still painfully aware that Kyle was still only talking to Kenny.

Meanwhile, the clouds above them loomed ominously.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sorry it's a little short. I had to end up cutting this chapter in half because it got really long...

Let me know if I've made any mistakes or anything like that.

Hope you liked it! I love you all! Thanks for reading! :D


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